


An Unexpected Hobbit

by Middle_Earth_Mama



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Eventual Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Kissing, M/M, Magical Accidents, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Protective Bilbo Baggins, Protective Thorin, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:27:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 33,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26437915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Middle_Earth_Mama/pseuds/Middle_Earth_Mama
Summary: Bilbo Baggins is not like other hobbits. In fact, the other inhabitants of The Shire wish he didn't exist, because Bilbo is different. Odd. Bilbo Baggins is a freak, and all the other hobbits know it. Thankfully, his strange talents will be most useful to a certain group of dwarves. Will he find his origins and learn to accept who he is?
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Bungo Baggins/Belladonna Took, Dwalin/Ori (Tolkien), Gandalf | Mithrandir/Belladonna Took
Comments: 315
Kudos: 400





	1. Belladonna and Bungo

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JuniAsat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JuniAsat/gifts).



> My summaries are absolute shit. Just another take on the trek to Erebor, in which Thorin and Bilbo obviously fall in love, because Bagginshield forever, am I right? 
> 
> Please read and enjoy.
> 
> For JuniAsat, who gave me the prompt for this fic. It is not exactly the way it was prompted, but I took your request and twisted it into my very own creation. Thank you for giving me the inspiration for this fic!
> 
> Updates will be random. Be patient with me, I don't have the time to create like I used to.

Hobbits, as rule, were not the most brave or adventurous. They tended to keep to themselves, perfectly content to ignore the rest of the world, and exist solely within the boundaries of The Shire. They were not a very curious people, and as such, the appearance of other races within their borders was met with suspicion and fear.  
Belladonna Took was not a typical hobbit. As a child, she was drawn to books of adventure and tempted to spend an abnormal amount of time in the forest. She often crossed the borders of the Shire, much to her parent’s dismay, and they found themselves constantly fretting over her. Hobbits weren't supposed to be adventurous. They were not supposed to be so very curious about things beyond the borders of their quiet safe haven. But Belladonna broke the mold. She craved adventure, and wandering was engraved in her soul.  
It was no surprise, when Bella got older, that she often spent days at a time traveling. Nobody knew where she went, and nobody knew when she would return. Her parents could be found most days sitting outside, nervously waiting for their daughter’s return.  
When she had finally come of age, her parents pushed her to marry, hoping she would settle down and stop her incessant wandering, but she wouldn't have it. She ignored the whispers and gossip surrounding her peculiar tendencies and carried on, refusing to be swayed into anything she didn’t want to do.  
The rumors surrounding Belladonna grew more and more scandalous as she began traveling with a certain wizard.  
Gandalf the Grey had been passing through Hobbiton, and of course caught Bella’s eye. She was curious about him, and after they had talked for a time, he was more than willing to take her on adventures with him all over Middle Earth. They visited the elves, explored the forest, and even traveled the mountains. But as soon as Gandalf returned Belladonna to the Shire, she would sulk and refuse interaction for days.  
Despite the rumors surrounding Belladonna, Bungo Baggins could not help but to want her. He was a proper gentle hobbit, he came from good stock. The Bagginses had always been well respected in the Shire. Therefore, it became quite the talk of town when Bungo Baggins called on Belladonna Took. He had harbored a soft spot for Bella since they were small and his feelings never wavered over the years, no matter what the gossips said. She turned him down politely, but Bungo wasn’t deterred. Every week, he invited her for afternoon tea, and every week she declined.  
It was merely days after Bella returned from her longest trip yet when Bungo came to ask her to tea again. She had been gone for months, and Bungo had missed her dearly. He found her again sulking by the stream near the borders of the forest. She had obviously been crying, and he immediately ran to her side, handkerchief in tow. He offered her comfort and courtship, and she accepted both, knowing she would not be going on any more adventures. They were married within a month, and with child immediately after.  
All of Hobbiton accepted the turn of events, the Bagginses grateful that Belladonna had finally stopped her adventures. It would not do for an adventurous Took to marry into their family and continue wandering. The Bagginses had worked hard to squash the rumors, if only to keep Bungo’s name out of other’s mouths. However, when it became apparent young Bilbo took more after his mother, the Bagginses made their disapproval known. Bungo wouldn’t stand for it. He told them off and sent them on their way, and the family kept their distance ever since.  
* * * * *  
Bilbo was a quiet child, his Baggins grandparents were proud to note. He seemed perfectly respectable, choosing to spend much of his time helping Bungo in the gardens and bird watching with his mother. Perhaps Belladonna’s peculiarities would end with her, as her son seemed a perfectly respectable Baggins, and she and Bungo didn’t seem very keen on adding to their family.  
Bilbo was about the age of ten when Belladonna began to suspect the little hobbit was more than what he seemed. His simple antics of speaking to animals and plants hadn’t seemed to fade. In fact, they seemed to become more pronounced, Bilbo spent hours and hours in the garden, talking to the plants. She didn’t think too hard on it, until it occurred to her that Bungo’s plants seemed much larger since Bilbo began helping. Bungo would never complain. He insisted it was a matter of good watering and well fertilized soil. He was quite proud of his winnings every fall. His pumpkins always won first place. He held the title of largest pumpkin six years running, and Belladonna couldn’t help but think it was all because of Bilbo.  
It wasn’t just the plants. Bella began to notice Bilbo interacting more and more with wild animals. The first time, Bella had been searching for Bilbo near the tree line. It was nearly dusk, and he was long overdue for supper. She spotted him crouching near a bush, whispering softly. Bella stopped and watched as Bilbo carefully untied a rabbit from a snare hidden in the bushes. The rabbit sat impossibly still, allowing Bilbo to unhook its leg. Bella felt a surge of disbelief as she watched Bilbo lean down and the rabbit pressed its nose to Bilbo’s, closing its eyes for a moment, before it hopped off into the woods.  
Belladonna never told anyone about Bilbo’s gifts. She refused to watch her son be ostracized and gossiped over. That evening, as she tucked Bilbo into bed, she sat down beside him and gave a great sigh.  
“Bilbo, my love?” Belladonna began, meeting her son’s curious gaze. “I saw you in the woods today.”  
Bilbo frowned, wondering where this conversation was going.  
“I know you have… a special bond with animals,” she continued.  
“And plants, Mama,” Bilbo finished for her.  
Bella smiled. “Yes. And plants. I just want you to be careful with it.”  
Bilbo’s frown deepened. He turned his gaze down to stare at where his fingers fidgeted with his blanket. “Is it bad?”  
“No,” Bella put a soothing hand on Bilbo’s. “No, it isn’t bad, my love. Your gift is a beautiful, wonderful thing. I want you to use it and enjoy it as much as you can. It’s just…”  
“Just what, Mama?”  
Bella sighed. “Some people are afraid of things they can’t understand. Most proper hobbits would find your gifts… unsettling if they ever found out.”  
Bilbo looked up at his mother in confusion. “Since when have we ever cared what proper hobbits think?”  
Bella grinned, running a hand through Bilbo’s curls. “We don’t. But I also don’t want you to live without friends. To live in a place where nobody understands you.”  
Bilbo nodded thoughtfully. “Alright Mama. It’ll be our secret.”  
Bella kissed her sons head lightly. “That’s my boy.” She wrapped her arms around the little hobbit and cradled him into her chest.  
“They can understand me, you know,” Bilbo declared softly.  
“I’m sorry?”  
“The animals. And the plants. They understand me, and I can hear them in my head. They speak to me.”  
Bella nodded. “You are a marvel, my sweet Bilbo. Don’t ever let anyone change who you are.”  
*****  
As Bilbo grew older, it became more and more difficult for him to hide his gifts. By the time his parents died, he didn’t much care if the other hobbits spoke to him or not, and most kept their distance. It was the little ones who were drawn to Bilbo, drawn to his stories of adventure passed down by his mother, and drawn to him the way the animals seemed to be.  
The rumors of Belladonna’s involvement with the wizard began spreading anew after her death, as though they had only waited until she was gone to ponder her peculiarities again. There were rumors of Bilbo too, and many a hobbit had voiced their opinions quite clearly right to his face. Bilbo hated the lot of them. He quickly learned the Bagginses had been firmly against his parent’s union from the beginning. He hated them all. He hated the questioning stares and odd looks he received. Hated the way the ladies whispered behind their hands when he walked by. Hated the people who called him “freak” when he would come too close. He secluded himself, content to live out his life alone but for the children and the animals that seemed to be drawn to him everywhere he went.


	2. Adventure

Bilbo sat on his garden bench, soaking up the sun’s warm rays. He sighed in contentment at the sound of the birds, the wind softly rustling his golden curls, and the warm caress of sunlight on his skin. He had just begun to doze when a shadow fell over him. He frowned slightly, squinting one eye open, then he sat bolt upright, now fully alert, and stared at the tall figure standing over him. 

“Good morning?” Bilbo tried, unsure what this visitor could possibly be doing on his garden path. 

The visitor grinned, tempted to make a riddle of the simple greeting, but deciding against it. He would have to cut to the chase and see just how far the apple fell from the tree. “My name is Gandalf.” He left it at that, if only to see how the hobbit before him would react to just his name. 

“Gandalf? The traveling wizard my mother used to adventure with?” Bilbo asked, brow cocked and lips quirking into a grin.

“One and the same. I wondered if you share your Mother’s spirit. I am in need of a hobbit to share in an adventure,” Gandalf spoke plainly, and Bilbo could only respect him more for it.

“I must admit I am curious, but I will need more information. Who else is going on this adventure? Where are they going, and what is their purpose?” 

“That is not for me to tell. Look for my coming as the sun sets behind the hill,” Gandalf answered with a satisfied smile. Then he turned and walked away, disappearing behind the hedge in front of Bag End.

*****

Bilbo paced the length of his sitting room, anxious beyond the ability to settle. Since Gandalf had come to see him that morning, he couldn’t help the tugging feeling in his gut as the day had worn on into night. He stopped before the fire, contemplating the flames for a bit, and chewed idly at one of his fingernails. A knock at the door sent him nearly jumping out of his own skin. He all but sprinted across the room in his eagerness.

Breathlessly, he pulled open the door and found himself face to face with a very large, very bald dwarf.

“Dwalin. At your service.”  
“Bilbo Baggins at yours,” Bilbo answered. He stepped aside and ushered the dwarf in. “Please, make yourself welcome.”

Dwalin nodded, pleased, and handed Bilbo his cloak. “I was told there would be food.”

Bilbo rolled his eyes as he hung the dwarf’s cloak on a hook. It was a little late for supper, but of course Gandalf would tell the dwarf there would be food. “I’ll just put something on, shall I?”

Bilbo quickly ran to the larder to pull out whatever food he could muster up. He stacked it in his arms and fumbled it all into the kitchen. He shouldn’t be terribly surprised that Gandalf would send a dwarf to his home. His mother had always said the wizard was secretive about his plans, but she had assured him there was always reason for his doings, and so Bilbo couldn’t find it in himself to be angry. 

Another knock had Bilbo running back through the house, ladle still in hand, to answer the door again. A slightly shorter, rather rounder dwarf with fuzzy white hair smiled warmly at him. 

“Balin. At your service.”  
“Bilbo Baggins at yours. Come in, I’ve put the kettle on,” Bilbo answered as he showed the dwarf in. The white-haired dwarf named Balin greeted Dwalin warmly, with a headbutt that made Bilbo’s own skull hurt. He shook his head and went to check on supper, hoping there wouldn’t be many more dwarves to add. He was more prepared for the next knock, but not quite ready to be greeted by the youthful faces waiting for him. Fili and Kili looked terribly young, less in beard than the last two and more in mischievous grins. Bilbo showed them in with good grace and went back to the kitchen, pulling potatoes from the stove and fresh biscuits from the oven. He struggled a bit to maintain his patience when the dwarves began moving his furniture around to better accommodate “the rest of them”. 

Bilbo shook his head. He wasn’t quite sure how many “the rest of them” entailed, but he was sure he would need more food. He ran back to the larder, pulling out the rest of his breads and cheeses and whatever else he could find. The dwarves were quick to help, and soon they had a good variety of foods laid out, just in time for another knock at the door. 

Bilbo ran to welcome his next guest and was quite surprised when he opened it. Several dwarves fell into his home, and he barely made it out of the way. He began helping them up, then glanced up to find Gandalf peering in behind them. 

“Please do come in,” Bilbo gestured to his new guests, “I’ve got food aplenty, help yourselves and if you please, do not trail mud on my carpet!”

The dwarves introduced themselves one at a time and quickly made their way in to greet the others and fill their bellies. 

Bilbo stood off to the side with Gandalf, equal parts irritation and curiosity.  
“Is this all of them, Gandalf?” he asked in a stage whisper.  
Gandalf stood beside him, frowning at the group. “Hm. Fili, Kili… Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, Nori, Dori, Ori… Balin, Dwalin. Oin, Gloin… Should be one more.”

Another knock at the door had Bilbo sighing, his arms dropping in defeat. “That’ll be him,” he said, his voice resigned, and he moved to answer the door one last time.

Bilbo pulled the door open and stopped short at the face on the other side. The dwarf was handsome, and he held himself with an air of confidence that told Bilbo this dwarf was used to commanding respect and receiving it without question. 

Bilbo couldn’t help himself. He moved automatically out of the way, as though the dwarf had verbally commanded it. The dwarf walked in without hesitation and handed his cloak silently to Bilbo as he addressed Gandalf. 

“Gandalf. You could’ve given better directions. Got lost twice. I almost couldn’t find the place,” the dwarf stated as he walked further into Bilbo’s home.

Gandalf turned to Bilbo and ushered him closer. “Bilbo Baggins, may I present the last member of our company, Thorin Oakenshield.”

Thorin took a few steps closer, his eyes full of amusement. “So, this is the hobbit,” he circled Bilbo, who glared daggers at the pompous dwarf. “Looks more like a grocer than a burglar.”

Bilbo crossed his arms over his chest, leveling the dwarf with a scolding look. “Excuse me, Mr. Oakenshield, but you’ll find that I am not one to take insult well in my own home. If you are to take food and sleep here, I suggest you develop a sense of manners and quickly.” All eyes went wide, all voices hushed as the dwarves awaited their leader’s response.

Thorin froze, his jaw dropping slightly at the audacity of this little creature scolding him like a child. After a moment, Balin came to his rescue, stepping forth to reason with the hobbit. 

“Mr. Baggins, I’m sure you didn’t know, but you are speaking to royalty, of the direct line of Durin the Deathless. He is king in his own right.”

Bilbo nodded. “That’s all well and good, but he is not the king of The Shire, and none but I are King of Bag End. I will not have anyone speaking to me that way in my own home, king or no.”

There was silence for a few more moments, then Thorin seemed to find his tongue. “My apologies, Mr. Baggins. Perhaps there is more to you than it seems.” He gave Bilbo a respectful nod, and Bilbo couldn’t help but to nod back. The dwarves all seemed relieved, and they settled easily back into their separate conversations.

Thorin remained standing in the sitting room, eyes still locked with Bilbo’s. He grinned as he finally turned to Gandalf. “Well done, Gandalf. I daresay you have chosen wisely.” He joined the group around the table, finding a seat at the head and food already set out for him. 

“Well Thorin, what news do you bring? Will we have our reinforcements to help us?” Balin asked, quick to get to business.

Thorin gave his old friend a sidelong glance laced with regret and sighed as he shook his head. “None will come. They say this quest is ours and ours alone.”

The room fell silent, all dwarves dropping their heads in disappointment. 

“What quest is that?” Bilbo’s voice broke the tension.

Thorin looked to the hobbit, standing off to the side of the room with his arms crossed over his chest. He tilted his head, as though amused, and gave Bilbo curious gaze. “The quest to reclaim our homeland. We intend to travel over mountain and through forests, facing unknown peril, in order to take back our kingdom.” He looked to Bilbo expectantly, waiting for the hobbit to ask the most important question.

Bilbo frowned, shifting on the balls of his feet as he met Thorin’s gaze with a few rapid blinks. “Take back your kingdom from whom? Or what?”

Thorin couldn’t stop his lips from quirking in a knowing grin. “A dragon of course.” 

Bilbo took in a sharp breath, holding it for a moment as he glanced up at the ceiling with a perplexed look on his face. He blew the air out of his lungs and let his eyes meet Thorin’s again, eyes narrowed and brows furrowed. “And where exactly do I come in?”

Gandalf answered before Thorin could open his mouth. “We are in need of a burglar,” he said, leaning in to take control of the conversation. “We need someone small, and light on his feet to sneak into the mountain and find the king’s jewel, the Arkenstone, and bring it back to Thorin.”

Bilbo’s frown deepened. “A jewel. You want me to sneak into a mountain and steal a jewel from a dragon?”

“Yes,” Thorin answered. “It is the only way to claim my place as king and request the help of the other dwarven kingdoms. They will only answer to the one who holds the heart of the mountain.”

Bilbo thought for a moment, his gaze on his feet as he contemplated. After a few moments, he looked back up and addressed Thorin again. “Alright. Now what is in it for me?”

Balin rose from the table, pulling a scroll from within his many pockets and handed it over to the hobbit. “It’s all described here. You will be given equal share of any treasure found, and an escort to bring you safely home, should you wish to return.”

Bilbo frowned and looked at the old dwarf. “And why wouldn’t I wish to return home?”

Balin shrugged. “It’s a long journey. You may find Erebor quite appealing, or you may wish to stay for a time before you do return. It’s all optional. Just… look it over.” The old dwarf waved a dismissive hand at the hobbit and retook his seat. 

Bilbo took the contract into his sitting room. He flopped down in his chair and looked over the scroll, scanning the many sections. When he had finished, he let his hand drop to his lap, scroll in hand, and took a soothing sip of his now lukewarm tea. He did not very much relish the thought of being incinerated. Or eaten, for that matter. But the Took blood within him was simmering with excitement at the thought of adventure. He gazed into the flames in the hearth, weighing his options as he heard the group in the kitchen start pushing out their chairs. He looked up as Thorin came to stand next to him, the dwarf looking impatient and haughty. 

“Well?” Thorin asked, his voice gruff and sharp.  
Bilbo gave the dwarf a hard glare.  
“Will you be joining us?” Thorin had the good grace to ask a bit more politely.  
“Yes,” Bilbo answered. “I will sign the contract and join your company, assuming you are open to a few changes to our agreement.”

*****

Bilbo settled into bed, eager and anxious to head out the next day. He tossed and turned, unable to calm himself enough to sleep. He finally gave up and threw himself from his bed. He tiptoed out into the sitting room and around the sleeping snoring bodies on his floor. With the silence only a hobbit could achieve, he opened the door and slipped outside. 

The crisp night air washed over Bilbo as he stepped outside, and he found himself comforted by the familiar smells and sounds of the outdoors. He walked to the garden, where he could dig his toes into the dirt and let the sounds of the crickets fill his racing mind. 

The ground was cool and sturdy beneath him, the taste and scents of the garden so welcoming and soothing. He knelt down, digging his fingers into the soil and focusing on the essence of the living things around him. He could feel the hum of the ground, could taste the roots growing deep in search of water, could hear the call of a million insects and birds of the night. He let himself stay there, completely engulfed in the comfort of the things he loved most.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think!  
> More soon!


	3. Berries and Trolls

The dwarves had been keeping their distance from Bilbo. When they awoke in the morning to find their burglar sleeping among the vegetables, they wondered if maybe their leader had been a bit rash agreeing to bring the hobbit along. After all, no sane person would sleep outside in the dirt if they didn’t have to. They left Bilbo to himself and didn’t get too close, worried they’d made a terrible mistake. 

Thorin was wary of Bilbo, the hobbit caught the dwarf king shooting furtive glances at him as they traveled, his eyes full of mistrust and doubt. It set Bilbo on edge. He found himself lagging behind, avoiding the suspicious glances and sideways looks of the company. He had spent years avoiding others, years expressing his gifts openly, and now he found it difficult to be constantly under watch. He had to make a conscious effort every day to keep his gifts hidden, but to no avail.

The first time, it had happened by accident. Second breakfast was not something dwarves seemed to be aware of, or anything other than breakfast lunch and supper. It had been days of three meals or less, Bilbo was hungry, breakfast hours behind them, and no guarantee of lunch. He hadn’t meant to do it, but he’d reached out, feeling along the rocky soil and letting his senses taste the roots that dug deep into the ground, looking for something edible. Suddenly, his eyes had shot open and he jumped from his pony, taking off into the woods. 

Thorin called the dwarves to a halt, dropping to the ground and took off into the trees near where Bilbo had disappeared. He ran, aggravated and angry, scanning the underbrush and calling for Bilbo. 

It wasn’t far off the path where Thorin found him, mouth red and sticky with wild strawberry juice. He stopped in his tracks, his mind taking a few moments to catch up with him. He looked from the ripe red berries collected in Bilbo’s hand to the nearly terrified expression on the hobbit’s face. A grin stole over his features. He chuckled and shook his head lightly at the fascinating creature before him. 

“You are full of surprises, Master Baggins,” Thorin declared, “How did you know where to look?”

Bilbo swallowed his mouthful and wiped self-consciously at his chin. “I- lucky guess,” he stammered. 

“Whatever it was, it will come in handy to have a few sacks of those berries to bring along with us,” Thorin said warmly. 

Bilbo held Thorin’s gaze and mirrored his grin. He was glad to be useful, and even more thrilled that Thorin didn’t seem unnerved by his strange ability to suddenly know exactly where to find strawberries. He was still standing there, with that beautiful, rare smile on his face, staring at Bilbo in wonder. 

Voices began to echo between the trees. The others were looking for them. Bilbo began to feel self-conscious again, and he dropped his gaze as the smile fell from Thorin’s lips. 

“Over here,” Thorin called, the regal demanding tone returning to his voice. “Master Baggins has found us berries.” Thorin’s eyes locked with Bilbo’s again as he let the corner of his mouth raise just a little. Bilbo blushed slightly in response. “Collect what you can. We cannot stop for long.”

*****

That night around the fire, the dwarves shared their prize of strawberries for dessert after their meal. They were singing and swapping tales, a few wandering off to their bedrolls as the night wore on. 

Gandalf couldn’t rest. He didn’t feel the least bit sleepy. All he could think about was Bilbo’s ability to find strawberries that were nowhere near the road. He thought perhaps Bilbo had simply smelled them. But he was sure, in all his travels with Belladonna he would notice such a heightened sense. Of course, he didn’t know all there was to know about hobbits, perhaps some of them did harbor a more sensitive sense of smell. He decided he would simply need to keep an eye on Bilbo. No sense worrying over something that would prove useful, after all.

*****

Bilbo was careful the next few days. He had seen Gandalf eying him suspiciously from across the flame that night. Sure, his mother had trusted the wizard, but why had she ceased contact with him all those years ago? Bilbo couldn’t be sure, and he couldn’t be too careful. After all, the dwarves were finally warming up to him, and he wasn’t about to give up his adventure because of a suspicious wizard. 

They settled for the night at an abandoned cottage, the roof missing and signs of an obvious attack littering the area. Gandalf urged Thorin to continue on, but the dwarf would not be swayed. He insisted they stay right where they were, and so the wizard had stormed off, leaving an unnerved Bilbo with a troop of indifferent dwarves. 

“Get a fire going,” Thorin barked, “Fili? Kili? Watch the ponies. Bombur? Do you have enough to make another stew?”  
Bombur dug through his pack. “As long as no one minds another bland stew of root vegetables.”

Thorin gave Bilbo a meaningful glance, and the hobbit came to his side. “Think you could find us some herbs? Other things to add?” Thorin asked softly.  
Bilbo gave Thorin a crooked grin. “You will owe me,” he teased.   
Thorin smiled. “I knew I could count on you, burglar.”

Bilbo hurried off into the trees, feeling his way through the forest for any signs of herbs or vegetables. He stopped a short distance from camp when the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. There was a silence to the birds and insects that normally orchestrated the night songs. He closed his eyes and listened intently to the trees, feeling along the forest floor beneath his feet. Some distance away, the air went bitter, the grass and stones sour, acrid with rot left from a stinking horrid presence venturing through the night.

Trolls. 

A pony screamed in the distance, and Bilbo rushed toward the sound, picking his way through the overgrowth. He slowed to a silent crawl when he came within the light of a campfire, three trolls surrounding it and preparing to cook the two ponies they had caught. 

Bilbo stilled for a moment, contemplating his options and taking the time to devise a plan. He was interrupted when two certain dwarf princes broke through the tree line, swords drawn and ready to fight. 

“Give us our hobbit!” Kili yelled, pointing his sword threateningly at the first troll.   
The trolls gave the brothers confused looks and rose to face them.   
“What’s a hobbit, then?” one of them asked.   
“Can we cook them?” asked another.   
“Kili,” Fili muttered, “I don’t think they have Bilbo.”  
“Where is he then?” Kili demanded impatiently. “Clearly, these fiends have taken him hostage and are hiding him from us!”  
Fili shook his head. “Trolls aren’t that smart.”  
“Oy! Who you callin stupid?” the first troll demanded, lunging at the dwarves.

Fili and Kili moved in tandem, dodging and swinging as the trolls attacked. 

Bilbo groaned from his hiding place in the trees. He came out from hiding, intent on freeing the ponies while the trolls were busy. Fili and Kili seemed to be capable of keeping the trolls busy, at least, and so Bilbo took advantage. He took up a discarded knife near where one of the trolls had sat and began working at the rope holding the gate closed. He had just managed to set the ponies free when he found himself grabbed up in an impossibly large hand and held by each limb. 

“Lay down your arms, or we’ll rip his off,” the troll threatened. 

Bilbo looked around. Apparently the entire company had come to join the battle as he had been setting the ponies free. They stood along the treeline, glaring daggers at the trolls. 

Bilbo’s chest heaved, his heart pounding like a trapped rabbit as he hoped beyond hope the trolls would put him down. He wasn’t sure if he should feel relieved or not when the company finally dropped their weapons and surrendered.

*****

The trolls had managed to tie most of the company to a large spit over an open flame. The rest of them awaited their doom confined in large burlap sacks. Bilbo watched helplessly as the spinning spit of dwarves begged for release over their fiery demise. 

The largest troll sighed impatiently, giving the nearest bagged dwarf a poke.   
“There’s hardly any meat on these,” the troll lamented. He reached over and picked up Thorin, dangling upside down over his mouth. “The biggest problem with dwarf is all the hair,” he sneered. “The whole lot should be skinned before we cook them.”

Bilbo watched the dwarf king’s face fight against his terror. He had to do something. This could not be how his adventure would end, and he couldn’t bear the thought of the dwarves coming to harm. Without thinking, he swallowed the fear that engulfed him and forced himself to rise. His eyes narrowed and he felt the swell of magic course through him. 

“Now hold on,” Bilbo began, his voice firm and sure, “you don’t have to skin them.”

The troll scoffed and tossed Thorin back into the pile. “What would you know of it?”

Bilbo smirked. “I do happen to know that if you boil them, the skins will separate, and you can simply peel them right off with no hassle.”

The troll furrowed his brow, as if determining whether or not he could trust Bilbo’s theory. 

Bilbo set his shoulders, taking a deep breath and pulled energy from the ground beneath his feet. “Why don’t you tell your friends to go gather a pot and some water. There is a stream nearby, send them to go fetch it.”

The troll nodded, his eyes going a bit blurry and he turned to the other two. “Go. Fetch that pot we had yesterday and fill it with water from the stream.”

The other two shared a look of indignation, then turned back to the third. 

“Go on!” the third one barked, irritated with their hesitance. The two huffed and went off to do as they were bid.

The troll looked uneasy as he scanned the tree line. He shook his head and looked down at Bilbo. 

“Oh,” Bilbo began before the troll could start, “there is plenty of time before dawn. Those two will be back in no time,” he reassured. “Meanwhile, why don’t you lay back, let yourself catch a few minute’s rest?”  
“I… I shouldn’t,” the troll glanced at the dwarves around him skeptically.  
Bilbo pushed harder. “They aren’t going anywhere. Your knots are too tight, too strong for them to escape. Besides, it’s only for a moment or two.”  
“Hm. I am a bit tired,” the troll mused.  
“I’m sure. You look it. It must be exhausting, dragging those two half whits around. They don’t appreciate how much you do for them.”  
“No. They don’t.”  
Bilbo shook his head. “I know. You deserve at least a little rest,” Bilbo’s voice was syrupy, and he could feel the troll falling under his spell, resolve snapping like a twig. The troll leaned back against a tree and let his eyes close, falling into a deep and peaceful sleep.

“How did you do that?” Thorin demanded.  
“I- I’m not sure, I’ve never done this before!” Bilbo shot the dwarf a warning glare. “The other two will be back, I have to focus.”

As if on cue, the other two trolls came crashing through the trees, a pot of water fumbling between them. 

“Hey!” the first one exclaimed letting his side of the pot fall, “what makes you think you can just lay there and sleep while we do all the work?”

The sleeping troll didn’t stir, and Bilbo readied himself to work on the other two. “Pay no attention to him,” Bilbo began, rounding on them. “He’s useless anyway. All he does is bark orders and shove you two around.”

The two trolls frowned as the hobbit’s words wrapped around and through them, pulling them under their influence. 

“Go on. Start without him. If you’re lucky, he won’t wake and you can have all the dwarves to yourself,” Bilbo urged. “All you need to do is take that spit down and put the pot over the fire instead.”

The trolls seems to ponder this for a moment, and then, they began working to move the spit, eyes glazed as if in a trance. 

The dwarves sighed in relief as the spit was pulled from the flame and set aside. They still dangled, strapped to it and each other, but at least they were no longer being roasted.

“Very good,” Bilbo cooed, “now let that water heat up. It needs to boil before you add the dwarves. Might take a minute. You should catch a little rest while you wait. If he thinks he can sleep on the job, why can’t you?”

The trolls exchanged glances, their survival skills acting against the spell over them. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep watch. I’ll wake you before dawn and make sure your meal doesn’t escape,” Bilbo promised.

It was enough for one troll, who laid himself down and began snoring almost instantly. The other narrowed his eyes at Bilbo. “Why should I be trustin you?”

“They did. Isn’t that enough?” Bilbo asked.

It seemed to be enough. The third troll joined his fellows, splaying out on the ground and immediately began to snore. 

Bilbo took a deep breath. He shook himself a bit and closed his eyes, holding his breath as he pulled the trolls deeper into sleep. 

When he was finished, he let out an exhausted huff of breath and wiped the sweat from his brow. He was light headed and worn out, but glad he had succeeded. He opened his eyes to a skeptical dwarf standing before him, arms crossed over his chest and brow furrowed. 

Thorin shook his head, and Bilbo didn’t know if he was more curious or mistrustful. “How in the name of Mahal did you manage that?”

Bilbo swallowed. “Persuasion?” 

Thorin narrowed his eyes. “Persuasion?”

Bilbo shook his head and flapped his hands irritably. “I have no idea how I did that. I didn’t even know I could do it! I just… acted. I didn’t think about what I was doing or how to do it, it just…. Happened!” He turned on his heel and started off into the trees, the dwarves following suit, eager to leave the trolls behind them. The sun broke from the horizon, and there was a sound like stone grinding on stone from where they had left. 

Thorin glanced behind them and then turned to Bilbo in question.  
The hobbit quirked a grin. “They’ve turned to stone.”

The company silently mounted their ponies, ready to be on their way, as Gandalf came in behind them. He spared a questioning glance for Thorin, who seemed uneasy, and one for Bilbo, who was looking rather pale and weak. He would have to figure out what he had missed later. It was long past time to go.


	4. A Suspicious Council

The company rode in silence for most of the day, though by afternoon the dwarves were talking amongst themselves and bantering a bit as usual. Bilbo, however, remained silent. He rode near the back of the group and refused to meet anyone’s eye as they went along. He was lost in his own head, dozing off constantly and exhausted beyond measure. 

“Bilbo?” The hobbit shook his head and jumped to attention. He glanced at Gandalf, who was now riding at his side, and stiffened nervously.  
“Bilbo, are you quite alright?” Gandalf’s concern was evident, and Bilbo was desperate to escape his searching gaze. 

“Yes. Yes I’m fine,” Bilbo answered shortly. “Just.. tired.”

Gandalf nodded slowly, his brows still furrowed. He let the subject drop, sensing Bilbo would not be any more forthcoming. He led his horse to the front of the pack and up next to Thorin’s. 

Thorin gave Gandalf a wary glance, then he sighed in defeat. “What is it, wizard?”

“I know how you feel about it,” Gandalf began carefully, “but we really should pass through Rivendell.”

Thorin scowled, grumbling under his breath at the suggestion.

“Hear me out, Thorin,” Gandalf implored. “Not only do we need someone to interpret your map, but Bilbo does not look well.”  
The statement got Thorin’s attention, and suddenly he was listening quite intently to the bothersome wizard.  
“Bilbo? What of him?”  
“He looks pale, and he seems quite weak. I am worried for him, Thorin,” Gandalf admitted, his voice low and serious. 

Thorin huffed, weighing the options before he finally met Gandalf’s eye. Against his own judgment, he found himself yielding. “Fine. Lead us to Rivendell. We will stay there only as long as it takes for Bilbo to recover. Then, and no later, we will depart.”

*****

When the company stopped for the night, Bilbo was more relieved than any other. He dropped to the ground with a sigh and laid back against a tree, eyes closing almost instantly. He barely noticed the footsteps approaching, and even so, he couldn’t be bothered to open his eyes. He knew it was Gandalf who had sought him out.

“Bilbo?” Gandalf called the hobbit’s name as he lowered himself down nearby. “We are going to head for Rivendell, we will be there by this time tomorrow. I want Lord Elrond to take a look at you. You don’t seem well, my friend.”

Bilbo smiled. “I have always wanted to meet the elves,” he said sleepily. “Mother always spoke so highly of Lord Elrond. It will be like meeting a distant uncle.”

Gandalf grinned and shook his head. “Indeed. He was fond of your mother. They were very good friends.”

Bilbo frowned, finally blinking his eyes open to peer at the wizard. “Gandalf? What can you tell me of my mother? Before she married my father?”

Gandalf looked perplexed. “Oh. Well, she liked to travel,” Gandalf began lamely.

Bilbo shook his head impatiently. “Yes, yes I know that. Tell me something nobody else would know about her.”

The wizard swallowed and cleared his throat. “Alright then. She…… was skilled with a dagger.”  
“A dagger?” Bilbo looked at Gandalf incredulously. “My mother? Truly?”  
Gandalf chuckled. “Yes, truly. I have seen her kill a wolf with the single slice of a blade.”  
“She never told me that story,” Bilbo huffed in amusement.  
“Oh yes. We had just finished setting camp. We were on our way back from Edoras, passing through the Gap of Rohan, when we were attacked by a hungry lone wolf.” 

Bilbo had leaned in, eager for a new story. 

“The wolf circled our camp, trying to back us into a corner. I kept myself between Bella and the wolf. I would have easily been able to keep us safe, but your mother… your mother was not one to stand idly by.” Gandalf gave Bilbo a grin. “She moved around me, pulled my knife from beneath my cloak and rolled, sliced upwards with the blade, and split the wolf open.”

Bilbo’s eyes widened in shock, his mouth working to form words but his brain refusing to catch up. “Sh- she killed a wolf?”

Gandalf shrugged. “It was him or us.”

Bilbo nodded. “I had no idea. I didn’t know she had it in her.”  
Gandalf grinned. “I daresay neither did she. But when someone she loved was threatened, your mother’s true strength would always shine through.”

Bilbo looked down at the ground with a furrowed brow. He pondered the wizard’s words for a moment. “Wait, loved?” He looked up again, but Gandalf had gone, and Bilbo was left to his own musings. 

Thorin paced away from where he had been watching Bilbo, silent and pensive. He turned his head as Dwalin came to stand at his side, just outside of camp.

“We need to keep an eye on that one,” Dwalin stated, jutting his chin in Bilbo’s direction.  
“I do not think he is malicious,” Thorin stated, crossing his arms over his chest.  
“Maybe not. But I would rather not take that chance,” Dwalin gave Thorin a pointed look, and the king huffed in begrudging agreement.

“Thorin, are you sure we should trust the elves?” Dwalin asked.  
Thorin grimaced. “No. I’m not sure. Nor am I sure how I let myself be convinced to go to them in the first place.”  
Dwalin shot a meaningful look toward Bilbo. “You don’t think…..”

Thorin furrowed his brow for a moment. “No. No, he wouldn’t….” He shook his head, frown deepening as he considered. “At least I don’t think he would…”  
Dwalin arched a brow, clearly unconvinced.  
“I’ll find out for myself right now,” Thorin declared. He marched over to Bilbo, fury beginning to rise in his wake. “Halfling! Did you work your magic on me so that I would agree to go to Rivendell?”

Bilbo glared back, affronted. “I would never.”  
“How do I know? How do I know you can’t control our minds? Control our decisions, MY decisions?” Thorin’s voice steadily rose, attracting the attention of most of the company. The fire flared angrily behind him, crackling loudly in the pregnant silence.  
Bilbo pushed himself up from the ground, leveling the dwarf with a hard glare. “If I were terrible enough to even consider trying to control your mind, don’t you think I would do it now just to stop your interrogating?” Bilbo asked angrily, jaw clenched and eyes narrowed shrewdly.  
Thorin stopped. He hadn’t considered that, but he couldn’t back down now. Bilbo’s peculiarities were useful, but they made Thorin more nervous than he could stand. “If I had known you harbored such powers, I never would have agreed to you joining us.” He turned and stormed off, leaving Bilbo to himself.

Bilbo sighed miserably, letting himself deflate as the company turned quietly back to their own conversations. He should have known eventually, they would turn on him. It was inevitable. He would always be a freak.

*****

Bilbo felt Rivendell before he saw it. He felt its energy, golden, warm and pure. Felt the rumbling thrum of water, falls most likely. It soothed and excited him the closer they got. This was a peaceful place, a place of rejuvenation and healing. As much as he felt the home of the elves welcoming pull, he felt the frustration of the dwarves around him. They were tense, Thorin and the elder dwarves more so than the others, each step they took closer to Rivendell increasing their apprehension. 

Bilbo let the calm of Rivendell wash over him as the city came into view. He tried his best to block out the dark choking anger of the dwarves and focus on the light and warmth instead. They came to a great bridge over a tree lined canyon of falls, the energy coursing through the waters nearly made Bilbo giddy. His head swiveled this way and that, trying to catch every ounce of scenery. 

“Gandalf! We’ve been expecting you,” a voice carried from their left.  
“Lindir. I assume Lord Elrond is prepared for our arrival?” Gandalf asked as he halted his horse at the start of the bridge.  
“Yes. We’ve been watching for you,” the elf Bilbo assumed was called Lindir answered. “Come. Lord Elrond awaits.”

As they crossed the bridge on their nervous mounts, Bilbo took in the view. The sun was setting behind the hills, casting a soft glow of orange hues and lacing the clouds in pink. 

“Gandalf,” Bilbo’s gaze snapped forward as another elf approached them. “It’s been far too long, my friend.”  
“Lord Elrond. Good to see you,” Gandalf responded. He dismounted and came forward to give the elf a slight bow of his head.  
“Interesting company you are keeping of late,” Elrond declared with a grin and a raised eyebrow.  
“Ah, yes. My companions and I were hoping to resupply our packs and our bellies, and a good rest wouldn’t be refused.”  
Elrond’s grin broke out into a full smile. “You are more than welcome. Come. We will take your ponies to the stables and find you rooms,” Elrond’s curious gaze fell on Bilbo and he gave him an assessing look. He tilted his head, eyes narrowing. “The son of Belladonna Took,” he said fondly. “You have your mother’s eyes.” Elrond’s own eyes grew sad for a moment, deep with a sorrow that had Bilbo fidgeting uncomfortably beneath it’s weight. Then the elf shook his head and addressed the group. “Lindir will show you to your rooms, then we’ll see that you are fed.” 

Gandalf stepped forward as the others prepared to follow Lindir. “Actually, Lord Elrond, I was wondering if you might be willing to look the hobbit over. He is quite fatigued, and though he may not look it, I think he is unwell.”

Elrond narrowed his eyes, as though he were trying to read Gandalf’s thoughts. “Very well. It would be my pleasure. Come, Master Baggins,” he continued, addressing the hobbit, “Let’s take a look at you.”  
Bilbo had nearly forgotten how drained he was, until he had followed the elf and the wizard all the way to Elrond’s study. After winding paths and more stairs than Bilbo would like to count, they came to a clean and simple room with a white desk and several well cushioned chairs. 

“Please,” Elrond gestured, “have a seat.”

Elrond checked Bilbo over, looked in his throat and examined his eyes. Checked for bruising or wounds, a bit more thoroughly than Bilbo would have liked. Then, he placed a hand on Bilbo’s chest and closed his eyes. Bilbo’s brow furrowed as he felt a cool soft sensation radiate from where the elf’s hand rested. He fought against it at first, simply out of surprise, but then he let it wash over him, slowly from his chest up to his shoulders, his head, down his arms and finally down to his toes. His body felt light and soft, relaxed and sleepy, no longer heavy and dragged down as though he were carrying a vast weight. His eyes snapped open as Elrond removed his hand and fixed him with an amused grin.

“Well, that was quite interesting,” Elrond declared.  
“What? What’s interesting?” Bilbo asked nervously.  
“You have many rare gifts, Bilbo Baggins. Use them well,” Elrond answered. “All you need to recover is a bit of rest. I will have someone show you to your room.”  
Bilbo nodded, still a bit apprehensive. He jumped up when Elrond directed a blond elf maiden to take him to his room for some much needed sleep.

*****

Bilbo would have been fine never leaving Rivendell. After a full day of keeping to his bed, eating whatever the elves brought him and sleeping in between, Bilbo had fully recovered. The elves were more than welcoming, and there was a wealth of books at his fingertips; books on language, on the histories of the many peoples of almost every land, books on folklore and myth, books on the makers of every people. There were fictional books about action and adventure, romance and heartbreak, books of every kind imaginable. And Bilbo yearned to read them all. He spent every day in the library, sometimes accompanied by Lord Elrond, and sometimes accompanied by Ori. 

Elrond asked Bilbo questions of The Shire, and in return, he told Bilbo stories about his mother. The elf lord also seemed interested in Bilbo’s powers, and Bilbo saw no harm in sharing with him. He told Elrond of the feeling the plants, the way the soil tasted when he pushed his powers through the ground. He told Lord Elrond of the connection he felt with the plants and the wildlife, and Elrond never seemed shocked or put off.

The days that Lord Elrond didn’t accompany Bilbo, Ori was always there. The young dwarf had taken an interest in the many writings the elves had collected as well. His older brothers didn’t seem to approve, but Ori didn’t care in the least. Bilbo and Ori spent hours together, reading and sharing notes long into the night. 

It was after a week of staying in Rivendell that Elrond came to visit Bilbo in his room. 

“Good evening, Master Baggins,” the elf began, a smile playing about his lips. “I hope you have enjoyed your stay thus far?”

“Oh yes. Yes I have very much enjoyed it. I can see why this was my mother’s favorite place to visit.”

Elrond smiled sadly. “Your mother was an amazing hobbit. It seems the apple does not fall far from the tree.”

Bilbo grinned, fixing the ground with an embarrassed smile.

“I must ask you,” Elrond’s stance changed, as though he were slightly wary of Bilbo’s response to this portion of the conversation. “Are you intent on seeing out this quests with the dwarves? You would be more than welcome to stay here, if you so chose.”

Bilbo considered for a moment. He thought of Bofur with his easy smile. Ori with his curious nature. Fili and Kili longing for the attention of an uncle who was too distracted to remember their youth. Thorin. Thorin who… well. Bilbo had no intention of abandoning them. “Yes. I am very intent on seeing this quest through. These dwarves are the closest thing to friends I have ever had.”

Lord Elrond nodded in understanding. “In that case, at least you should be armed, should the occasion call for defending said friends.” Elrond pulled a short sword from beneath his robes.

Bilbo took the sword hesitantly. “I don’t know if this is necessary,” he said with a shake of his head. 

“Bilbo, when we set ourselves on the path of defending the ones we love, we can never be too prepared,” Lord Elrond responded. “Besides, this belonged to your mother. I can only imagine she would want it to be passed on to you.”

Bilbo forewent ceremony and threw himself into Elrond’s arms. He hugged the elf around the middle, and the lord’s face quickly melted from surprise to fondness.

“Thank you,” Bilbo whispered into the elf’s fine robes of silk.

*****

Gandalf sat at a table, his hands calmly folded before him as he regarded the group seated around him. Galadriel, Saruman, and Lord Elrond had finally sat him down for a talk. Saruman was nearly fuming. He had tried to talk Gandalf out of his quest with the dwarves, but Gandalf politely refused to end their mission. It was with this in mind Lord Elrond decided to push the issue he was most concerned with. 

“What is Bilbo?” Lord Elrond asked plainly. 

Gandalf raised his eyebrows, deepening the lines in his forehead in his surprise. “He’s a hobbit, dear friend.”

Elrond shook his head with an amused grin. “You and I both know there is more to Bilbo Baggins than what meets the eye.”

Gandalf sighed, contemplating his answer as he rubbed his hands together nervously. “I’m not entirely sure what is different about him,” he finally confessed. He laid his hands flat on the table, meeting Elrond’s gaze.

“I knew the moment I laid eyes on him that Bilbo Baggins is something more than just your average hobbit,” Lord Elrond continued. “There is a piece of him that is far more… powerful. I know you spent a fair amount of time with his mother, and I know how she felt for you. Gandalf, you didn’t….”

Gandalf frowned in surprise. “Of course not. I never touched Belladonna.”

“Accidental Lifeforce Displacement,” Galadriel said softly, her sudden interest in the conversation causing all eyes to shoot to her.

Gandalf gave her a questioning look. 

Saruman shot Gandalf a dirty scowl, rising from his seat. “What have you done? You have thrown off the balance, passing powers to a creature as simple as a hobbit! What if he decides he would like to acquire more? What if he’s overcome by the hunger for it?”  
“He won’t be,” Gandalf reassured.  
“How could you possibly know that?” Saruman snarled.  
“Because. Bilbo Baggins is a good soul. He would never be overcome by the greed for power,” Gandalf responded firmly.  
“No, he wouldn’t,” Lord Elrond agreed. “Bilbo is very like his mother. He has a good soul, and I daresay he has unlocked potential the likes of which I am glad to have on my side.”

Gandalf and the elf lord shared amicable smiles.  
“It would seem,” Galadriel began, her eyes far away and a small smile playing about her lips, “the fate of Thorin Oakenshield now relies on the heart of a little hobbit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright ya'll, be patient with me! I promise everything will be explained in due time.  
> Hope you liked it! More next week!


	5. The Misty Mountains

The mountains were cold and unforgiving. Rain seemed to pour ever constantly down upon the company as they wove around the stone peaks. They had been forced to leave their ponies in Rivendell, they could never hope to navigate the narrow stone paths, and so the company carried on by foot. They had been traveling for several days when they came to a point where the path narrowed and they would have to continue on single file. 

Bilbo felt uneasy, a strange and nauseating nervousness settled within his gut and he worked his way to Thorin’s side where Balin and the king were discussing their options.

“We’ve traveled this path before. It will be easy as long as we stick together,” Thorin told his advisor, intent on his plan.  
“I don’t know, laddie,” Balin replied, “seems pretty slick for booted feet. Besides, Bombur won’t even be able to keep himself from hanging over the edge.”  
“Thorin,” Bilbo interrupted, appearing out of nowhere at Balin’s side, “terribly sorry, Thorin, but I must agree with Balin on this one. This path looks to be too treacherous.”  
“Master Baggins, your senses are all fine and well for seeking out food in the woods, but these are the mountains. A dwarf has stone sense beyond any other. I am certain this path is safe.”

Bilbo swallowed and blinked away his nerves, then looked Thorin in the eye with a determined face. “I am telling you,” he began firmly, chin tilting down as he swallowed the hesitance in his voice, “we cannot continue safely on this path. There is another path a little way back, and I am confident that will be a safer route. We cannot hope to make it down this path alive.”

Balin fought against an amused grin as Thorin looked as though he’d been slapped. The king glared openly at the hobbit, as though daring him not to take back his defiance.

When no retraction was forthcoming, Thorin pushed his way around the older dwarf and stood before the hobbit, shoulders back and body tense as he towered over Bilbo.  
“We will take this path. No negotiating. I am king, and this quest is mine,” he huffed at the pointed clearing of Balin’s throat. “Ours. Mine and my company’s.”

Bilbo crossed his arms over his chest. “Am I not part of your company? I did sign a contract. Or does that mean nothing to you at all?”

Thorin rubbed at his temples with an annoyed groan. “This is not a debate. We’re taking the mountain path. If you don’t agree, you can turn back and go straight to Rivendell. I’m sure Elrond would be more than happy to make you his lap dog!”

“Better Elrond’s lap dog than your punching bag!” Bilbo snapped, returning Thorin’s hard scowl. The dwarf blew out a furious huff, his hands curling into fists as he turned on his heel and stormed down the path. 

*****

The mountain path was treacherous, and the higher the company climbed, the colder and wetter and darker it got. They were nearly frozen in their cloaks, slipping and clinging to the mountainside as thunder began to roll. 

Bilbo felt it. Oh, how he felt it. That rough, gritty cold bite of something big, something not right. It lacked the rotting quality of trolls, but felt large and dangerous nonetheless. He yearned to turn around, but the road was too narrow, and he wouldn’t leave the dwarves alone to their fate. 

Not to mention he would die before giving Thorin the satisfaction of his departure. 

“By my beard,” Bofur’s declaration drew the company’s attention. They all followed his line of site and stopped in horror as the side of the mountain began to move and two stone giants stood up from the rock. They each grabbed at the craggy cliffs around them and began throwing boulders at each other from across the valley. The resulting crash of rock on rock deafened the terrified company. They cowered against the wet stone, hanging on for dear life. 

Bilbo closed his eyes as he let his cheek rest against the biting cold mountainside. He shook with fear as he did his best to push out, hoping he could muster up enough power to have some sway on the giants. There was no way he could speak his commands, and he wasn’t sure his magic could reach so far or affect something so large, but he tried with all his might. 

Several minutes went by, and the stone giants were settling down. They shoved each other half heartedly, then one at a time they sat down and blended back into the mountainside. Bilbo wasn’t sure if it had anything to do with him. He wasn’t sure if he had managed to reach the giants or not, but he wasn’t about to question it, nor did he care. Just as long as the ground was no longer moving, and rock was no longer splintering and falling down on him in great dangerous chunks. 

Bilbo gratefully followed the dwarves as they continued on. He didn’t notice the look of regret Thorin shot back at him over his shoulder.

*****

Night was closing in. The dwarves were nearly sleeping on their feet when Thorin stopped them at the mouth of a cave. He gripped the cave mouth and looked inside for a moment, before he got the most peculiar look on his face. He stood back and contemplated the ground, brow furrowed and lips thin. 

“Thorin?” Balin addressed his king warily. It wasn’t like Thorin to look so uncertain.

Thorin ignored Balin. He shook his head and scanned the company behind them.  
“Master Baggins,” Thorin called as he finally met Bilbo’s eye. “I need you to check this cave.”  
Bilbo frowned. “Me?”  
“Yes,” Thorin tilted his chin down and looked at Bilbo meaningfully. “You.”

Bilbo made his way through the dwarves and warily approached the cavemouth. He glanced curiously at Thorin, who urged him with a wave of his hand.

Bilbo took the few steps closer to the cave. He stopped and took a deep breath, then leaned into the open maw. He didn’t even have to try. 

“No. No no no, we can’t go in there.” Bilbo stepped back and shook his head nervously. “There is… something is not right with this cave. It feels…” Bilbo struggled to find the proper word for the anxious feeling coming off of the cave. “It doesn’t feel right.”

Thorin nodded. “Alright. We move on, then.”

Bilbo’s eyes widened. Was Thorin honestly taking Bilbo’s advice with no question? 

“Master Baggins?” 

Why was Thorin looking at him so expectantly?

Thorin came closer and leaned down slightly. He reached out tentatively, taking Bilbo’s hand.   
“I would like you to walk with me,” the dwarf said softly, so only Bilbo would hear. “I need your help. We have to find a safe place to bed down for the night, or the company will freeze.”

Bilbo took a deep breath and stood a little taller. “Of course. It might take some time, but I will help you find shelter.”

Thorin grinned warmly. “I knew I could count on you, my burglar.”

*****

It was late, or early, depending how you looked at it. The wee hours of twilight were upon the company. Twinkling starlight mocked them from a clear deep blue velvet sky, and everyone was nearly dead on their feet. Bilbo and Thorin had led them, passed numerous caves that had seemed promising, but at the cautious shake of Bilbo’s head, Thorin would not argue against the hobbit. He would not risk his company, not when Bilbo had proven himself over and again. 

It was nearly dawn when finally they stopped. The ground was covered with snow this high up, sparkling in the near light of dawn as Thorin urged Bilbo to check one last cave. Bilbo entered it wearily and nearly cried when he felt no ill intent, no awaiting danger when he entered. He turned back to Thorin with a relieved smile, one the dwarf returned with enthusiasm.   
“This one. This one is safe,” Bilbo said, his heaving breath wisping in the freezing mountain air.  
“Well done,” Thorin rumbled as he followed Bilbo in. The dwarves all settled in groups, taking time to unload their supplies and get themselves comfortable. Bilbo couldn’t. He was cold, colder than ever he had been in his life, and tired. Tired and heavy and weary. He nearly collapsed, letting his weight drop against the cave wall behind him. His eyes closed instantly, and he was asleep before he hit the ground.

*****

Bilbo’s eyes flickered open, the bright light of day blazing in through the mouth of their rocky shelter. He frowned, forgetting for a moment where exactly he was. It came crashing back with the symphony of dwarven snores that surrounded him; a cave in the mountains, their shelter from the cold. Bilbo’s frown deepened. They were sheltered from the wind, but the temperature had surely dropped. He should be absolutely frozen, unable to feel his toes and fingers. His breath still left his mouth in wisps of misty vapor, but his body felt warm and comfortable. He glanced around curiously, turning his head to the side, getting a clear view of the source of heat. 

Thorin.

Thorin had lain next to Bilbo in the night and draped his cloak around them both so as to shield the hobbit from the biting mountain air. His body was pressed tight against Bilbo’s, and the hobbit could feel every inch of him from chin to toes. 

Bilbo felt his face grow hot, his heart suddenly thudding in his chest as he quickly scrambled away from the king’s warm and comfortable embrace. 

“Mm,” Thorin harumphed as his eyes blinked slowly open. “Master Baggins?”  
Bilbo swallowed nervously. “Uh.. yes.”  
Thorin’s brow furrowed. “Are you alright?”  
“Yes. Yes, thank you for…… for making sure I didn’t freeze to death.”  
Thorin grinned. “Of course. I apologize if my proximity was a bit of a surprise to you this morning. I wanted to ask first, but you were so deeply asleep I couldn’t rouse you. I was a bit worried you may never wake.”  
Bilbo didn’t answer, and so Thorin continued.  
“You were shivering. Your teeth had begun to chatter and I knew no one would sleep with all that racket,” Thorin finished with a wry grin.  
“Oh,” Bilbo blushed. “I- well… thank you.” He fidgeted uncomfortably for a moment. “I’ll just be- I suppose we should prepare to head on.” He gave Thorin an awkward half grin then turned to gather his things.

It was mid day when the company headed off again, eager to get through the mountains and leave the snow and the cold behind them. They had been walking the narrow path for several hours. It had widened slightly, almost enough to walk two abreast, and the snow gave much better traction than the wet stone beneath. The sun sparkled brightly off the pure and fluffy white, blinding but beautiful as they followed Bilbo through the mountains. 

Bilbo stopped suddenly, his body tense and on edge. Thorin, having not been watching, ran into his back and had to keep from falling over by grasping Bilbo’s shoulders. He stumbled slightly, then froze as he gave Bilbo the silence to focus. The company halted behind them, none daring to speak while Bilbo assessed their surroundings.

“What is it Bilbo?” Thorin asked softly.  
Bilbo frowned, glancing around nervously. “I’m not sure.”  
Thorin moved around the hobbit, eyes darting over the barren winter wasteland. “I don’t see anything,” he said as he made his way further forward.

Suddenly, the ground began to shake and Bilbo lunged into the king. Rock and snow fell from the mountainside above, barely missing Thorin as Bilbo shoved the dwarf out of the way. 

“Bilbo!” Thorin yelled as the hobbit was knocked of the path with the cascade of snow and ice, falling over the edge of the narrow path and down into the mist below. 

Thorin’s stomach dropped to his toes, his heart nearly ceasing to beat as he scanned the empty air below for some sign of the ground. How far down was it? Could Bilbo still be alive? And what if… what if Bilbo was…… 

“Thorin!” Kili ran to his uncle’s side, Fili, Ori and Bofur close behind.  
“Where did he go?”  
“Do you think he’s still alive?”  
“No one could survive that drop.”  
“Quiet. Quiet all of you,” Thorin turned to face his company. “I am going after him. Fili? You will lead the company.”  
“What?” Kili shouted indignantly. “You can’t expect-“  
“I can, and I will. Your brother is my heir. If anything happens to me, it is Fili who will lead our people.”  
Fili shook his head in dismay. “But uncle-“  
“You can do this. You can and you must. Balin will help you. I will meet you at the end of the mountain pass. If I am not there when you reach it, make camp and wait for Gandalf.”

Fili’s face grew more determined. He nodded dutifully at Thorin, accepting his uncle’s command. 

“Thorin, I know I speak for all of us when I say, we are quite fond of Bilbo, but do you think it wise to-“  
“Balin,” Thorin snapped in warning, “I’m going.” He gave the older dwarf a hard look, one that said the king would not be swayed, and Balin nodded his understanding.

“Be careful, Uncle Thorin,” Kili pleaded, sounding younger than Thorin had heard him in years. 

Thorin tilted his head, regarding his nephews fondly. “I will. Keep yourselves safe.” He said no more than that, only stopping when two sets of arms wrapped around him in a desperate embrace. With the love of his nephews, he left the company and began to climb carefully down the stone wall into the valley below.


	6. Trust and Fondness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I'm late, but here it is! Chapter 6. Oh, and we're probably looking at more than 12 chapters. Oops.   
> Enjoy!

As Thorin finally reached the bottom, panic had begun to set in. There was no sign of Bilbo, and the daylight would be fading soon. A rock wall of mountain loomed up to his left, to his right, a forest of evergreen grew down a slope, blanketing the roots of the mountain range. There was a short expanse before him where the avalanche had obviously settled, and thankfully it wasn’t terribly large. Thorin began walking along, searching for a sign of his hobbit. The snow crunched beneath his boots, and the shadows lengthened as evening approached. 

Thorin stopped suddenly when the light of the fading sun glinting off of something caught his eye. He ran toward it, thrilled and terrified to find it was Bilbo’s sword. After searching the nearby area, Thorin found him. Bilbo was unconscious, half buried in the snow. His breathing was too slow, too labored, and Thorin rushed to dig him out. 

It wasn’t long before Thorin had Bilbo pulled from the snow and into his arms. He carried the hobbit tirelessly, searching for shelter as darkness blanketed the landscape. The best he could find was an inlet in the rock wall, a place where the higher peaks would shield them at least from the majority of the harsh wind. The snow began to fall as Thorin made a small makeshift camp, a fire from what sticks he could find along the nearby tree line. He was beginning to worry. Hobbits were not the most hardy of creatures, least ways not compared to dwarves, and Bilbo had been unconscious for too long. 

Thorin sat himself down and leaned against the rock wall. He pulled Bilbo into his lap, wrapping him up in his cloak in an attempt to share what warmth he could offer. The fire gave off some heat, and Thorin hoped it would be enough to keep Bilbo from freezing to death. 

Thorin huffed against Bilbo’s soft golden curls. He was growing impatient. He put his arms around Bilbo and rubbed at his back, hoping to coax more heat into the hobbit’s flesh. He was rewarded with an irritated groan, then Bilbo was burrowing his face in the side of Thorin’s neck.

Thorin grinned. He would accept that response as a cue for him to stop fretting. Bilbo would certainly be fine by morning.

*****

Thorin was dreaming, and he knew it. He was in Erebor. There was a warm hearth before him, and plenty of food on the table at his side. There was a tankard of ale in his hand, and soft furs wrapped around him. He felt at peace, warm and full and sated. His mother and father could be heard in the next room, murmuring in hushed and happy voices. Thorin frowned as the bite of cold began to wake him, a warm body shifting in his lap.

“How is it,” a familiar irritated voice questioned, “that every time I wake in these horrid mountains, I find myself being used as a certain dwarf’s teddy bear?”

Thorin smirked, his eyes still closed against the light of approaching dawn. “Then the mountains can’t be all that horrid, can they?”

“Indeed,” Bilbo responded, amused. “Where are the rest of the company?”

Thorin blinked his eyes open and groaned against the stiffness in his muscles. “We are to meet them at the end of the mountain pass.”

“When?” Bilbo asked as he pushed himself up to sitting properly.

“As soon as I am assured you will survive the journey.”

“Survive the journey? It will take much more than that to stop a Took,” Bilbo stated as he pushed himself up to sitting.

Thorin raised an eyebrow. “Indeed.”

“Well, we can’t sit here practically out in the open with a fire going! We’ll attract far too much attention to ourselves. Not only that, but, honestly Thorin, I want to get the hell out of these mountains. There is something foul lurking within them, and I would rather not find out what.” Bilbo got to his feet, but staggered as his full weight hit his legs. Thorin reached out and caught him with a steady hand on his shoulder. 

“Bilbo, we are going to have to take this one step at a time. You are weak, and you will need to eat before we carry on.”  
Bilbo huffed in defeat. “Alright then.” He sat back down, decidedly a bit further from the dwarf, and looked to Thorin expectantly. “What have you got?”  
“Some dried fruit. It’s not much, but it will give you a bit of energy.” Thorin offered a handful and Bilbo took it happily. They ate their rations and headed out. 

Bilbo was still moving slowly, his legs tired and weak from the cold. Thorin helped him find a branch to use as a walking stick to help take some of his weight. 

The longer the day drug on, the more Bilbo began to ponder. It was a wonder Thorin had come for him at all, and the more he thought about it, the more he questioned what had caused the dwarf to change his attitude the last few days. When they had stopped for another rest, Bilbo decided he could wonder no longer. 

“Thorin?” Bilbo asked cautiously.  
“Hm?”   
“What- what made you come back for me? Why did you abandon your company and risk your royal neck searching for me? It’s not as though you and I are-”  
“Are what? Friends?” Thorin gave Bilbo a hard look. “Do you not think me a friend, Bilbo?”  
“Honestly, I don’t know what to think. First you’re flippant with me, then you seem impressed with my abilities. Then suddenly you’re accusing me of using them on you! You don’t listen to my warnings, then you want me to lead. Now you’ve risked your life and your quest in order to save me. So you tell me, Thorin. Are we friends? Or am I a potential threat to be watched closely so that I don’t use my magic on you?”

Thorin closed his eyes in shame and swallowed thickly. “Yes, Bilbo. I would like to consider us… friends.”  
“Then why does it feel as though you’re choking on your words trying to admit it? Do you find me so distasteful?” Bilbo’s voice was sharp, the words cutting into Thorin like daggers.

Thorin frowned at his feet, unable to meet Bilbo’s accusing glare. He grimaced and shook his head, then met Bilbo’s gaze with pleading eyes. “I do not find you distasteful, Bilbo. You have a fierce heart, and a kind soul.”

Bilbo leaned back, a bit shocked at the statement. “Well, then why all the back and forth? Why are you so kind and warm one moment, then the next you’re...well, an absolute ass?”

Thorin’s eyebrows shot up, his jaw dropping slightly at the accusation. The corner of his lips twitched up as he locked eyes with the fierce little creature at his side. 

Thorin shook his head and grinned. Then suddenly he was laughing, great shoulder shaking guffaws that quickly had Bilbo chuckling right along with him. 

Bilbo wiped at his face as his giggles died down. “I like your laugh, Thorin. I didn’t think you knew how.”

Thorin rolled his eyes. “Of course I can laugh,” he said with an amused smile. He shook his head again. “You never cease to amaze me.”

Bilbo gave a startled jerk of his head. “What?”

“You do not hold anything back. You say exactly what you are thinking, and you constantly challenge me.”  
“Well, yes, someone has to.”  
Thorin huffed a chuckle. “And why is that?” he asked with a grin.  
“Because. As I’ve said. You’re an ass.”  
Thorin shrugged his shoulders, giving Bilbo a fond look. “Maybe someday you can scold that out of me.”  
“No,” Bilbo shook his head enthusiastically, “no I don’t believe that is possible.” He gave Thorin a mischievous smirk.  
“You might be right,” Thorin wiped his hands on his trousers and stood. “We best get moving. I daresay we’ve wasted enough daylight.” He extended a hand down to Bilbo and easily pulled the hobbit to his feet.

Bilbo looked down at their joined hands, then back up at Thorin’s slowly sobering face. The dwarf had an odd look in his eyes, and Bilbo would daresay it was something along the lines of fondness, blurring with those of.. adoration? It made his chest tighten and his head feel light and fuzzy. He felt his face warming as a light blush stole over his features. 

“Come then,” Thorin said suddenly, dropping Bilbo’s hand and turning away. “Time to move.” He took a few steps, then turned back to Bilbo hesitantly. “You will let me know if you need me to help you along?”  
“Oh, um… yes?” Bilbo shook himself and took a deep breath as Thorin’s focus turned from him. He closed his eyes and tilted his head down, trying to regather himself. When he opened his eyes, his brow furrowed. There was a patch of melted snow near his feet where a purple bloom stood proudly, a splash of vibrant color against the white and barren landscape. 

“Bilbo?” Thorin was several paces ahead, and Bilbo rushed to catch up.

*****

By nightfall, they were making their way down the mountain. They had made great time, considering Bilbo’s state, but the hobbit was quickly tiring. 

“Do you know where you’re going?” Bilbo asked as the pink light of sunset began to fade.  
Thorin frowned. “Of course I do. Dwarves have a great sense of direction.”  
Bilbo gave the dwarf an amused sidelong glance. He raised an eyebrow pointedly. “Mhm. Right. And, where exactly are we going?”  
Thorin stopped walking and sighed in defeat. “Honestly, I’m not certain. I know the general direction, but my memory is a bit foggy on the specifics.”

Bilbo shook his head and turned around to face the dwarf. He crossed his arms over his chest and heaved a sigh.  
“Do you- can you…” Thorin waved his hand vaguely, “sense them? Smell them? Whatever it is you do?”  
Bilbo gave Thorin a smirk. “Smell them?” he chuckled and shook his head fondly. “Honestly Thorin, they may stink a bit, but not enough for me to smell them from here!”

Thorin frowned a bit glumly. “Well how should I know how it works?”  
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, you’re right,” Bilbo said guiltily, raising his hands in surrender, “I’ll see if I can sense them. Give me a moment, please.” 

Thorin gave a nod and watched curiously as Bilbo closed his eyes. The hobbit blew out a breath, then went perfectly still. His hands hung limp and open at his sides, face relaxed and serene. After a few moment, the hobbit went a bit more rigid, his face pinching up and head turning slightly, as though he were concentrating deeply. 

Thorin dare not interrupt. He waited patiently, watching with careful curiosity. Sweat gathered at the hobbit’s temples, and he had begun to twitch slightly, as though he were exerting a large amount of energy.

Finally, the hobbit’s body went limp, letting out a woosh of breath as his eyes flew open.  
“Th- that way,” Bilbo pointed with a flimsy hand as he staggered slightly. His breaths came out in heaving pants, and his legs were giving out beneath him.

Thorin caught Bilbo before he could hit the ground. He had the strangest feeling, as though he had witnessed something sacred, something private and intimate. It made his mouth go dry and his heart race to think that Bilbo was comfortable enough to drain his energies so readily before him. To allow Thorin to see that part of him and trust the dwarf would take care of him after. He crouched down and let Bilbo rest against his knee.

Bilbo’s eyes were closed, his heart racing and breathing labored. “I’ve never stretched myself so far,” he breathed between panting breaths.

“Thank you,” Thorin wiped the sweat from the hobbit’s brow, letting his fingers linger in Bilbo’s curls. He waited a moment for the hobbit to regain himself. “Bilbo?” Thorin roused the hobbit gently, “I will carry you, if you allow.”  
Bilbo kept his eyes closed, still trying to catch his breath. He licked his lips, then nodded his agreement. 

Thorin hefted Bilbo up into his arms as he rose to his feet. He headed off in the direction Bilbo had pointed him, completely confident in the hobbit’s directions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! More soon!


	7. Uncertainty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all have had a lovely week. Here is a bit of a filler chapter, but I hope you enjoy it all the same!

It was dark and cold. The company had managed to build a small fire along the tree line long before the sun had set, and they all sat huddled around it. The silence had been heavy and thick after Thorin left, and Fili was feeling the brunt of it. He had been doing his best in his uncle’s stead, leading and making decisions with Balin and Dwalin at his side for advice and Kili for support. The company had not given him any trouble. They trusted Fili, or at least Balin and Dwalin, not to lead them astray. 

The first day had been cheerful enough, Bofur made a point to carry a tune as they went to keep up the spirits. When that failed, a bawdy joke or story seemed to suffice quite nicely. When they had begun to make their way down the mountain, the singing had stopped, and so had the jokes and storytelling. Every member of the company could feel it. The deafening absence of their king and their hobbit. They knew it was unlikely the two had made it if they hadn’t appeared by now. Camp had been made early, the company unwilling to go any further until they’d given Thorin and Bilbo a chance to catch up. 

Gandalf had met them that morning. Balin urged Fili to tell the tale of Bilbo’s fall and Thorin’s orders when he left to find him. Although Gandalf tried to hide it, Balin could see he was worried. 

Bombur had pulled out what rations he had left and let the company split it amongst themselves. Dori pushed most of his portion at Ori, though the youngest company member refused to eat more than his fair share. Nori snatched a bit of Bofur’s, but the cheerful toymaker didn’t seem to mind. Fili and Dwalin sat alone, eating in silence well the others spoke in hushed voices. Kili sat staring into the flames, unable to eat at all. 

“Kili?” Balin’s firm but soft tone startled the dwarf prince. “You need to eat, lad.”  
Kili shook his head. “I can’t. I’m too anxious to eat.”  
Balin nodded. “I can understand that. But you need your strength. Can’t let yourself go hungry and weak when Fili needs you.”  
“Fili is a fine leader. And he has you and Dwalin to help him.”  
Balin narrowed his eyes. “You are possibly all he has left but your mother,” Balin scolded gently.  
Kili huffed, but begrudgingly began to eat.

“Lay off Bifur!” Gloin’s irritated voice called from the other side of camp. The ginger haired dwarf began angrily brushing snow from his bedroll.  
“What is it?” Bofur asked the frantically waving Bifur as he hopped about excitedly and pointed off into the distance. Bofur followed his cousin’s gaze and suddenly he was bouncing and laughing. “There, look at them, the scoundrels!” With that he took off, holding his hat as he trudged excitedly through the snow. The rest of the company sat at attention, staring off where Bofur was headed.

“Uncle?” Kili breathed as he jumped to his feet. “Thorin!” he yelled, then ran off after Bofur, much of the company at his heels. 

Thorin looked up at the sound of approaching footsteps and sighed with relief as the tension left him. He looked at Bilbo, who had hobbled the last hour or so with an arm slung over Thorin’s shoulder. “We made it,” Thorin grinned and Bilbo couldn’t help but beam up at him, exhausted and frozen though he was. He gladly let Bofur scoop him up and all but drag him back to camp as the others smothered Thorin with tight hugs and skull cracking head-butts. 

“Look at ya, lad, yer nearly frozen!” Bofur scolded as he all but shoved Bilbo down near the fire. “Ya just might lose yer toes!”

“Master Baggins,” Gandalf chuckled, “I’m so very glad to see you all in one piece.”

Bilbo shook his head. “Barely. Much longer and I fear Bofur would be right and I would be losing my toes,” Bilbo answered. He was relieved to be reunited with the rest of the group, but equally exhausted. He lowered himself onto his side right there on the ground, asleep before his head hit the snow. 

*****

“I am done with the cold. I am done with the snow and done with this dreariness,” Bilbo announced loudly, “everything is barren and dead!”

“Now now, Bilbo. We’ve already entered the forest. Surely the trees here are a comfort?” Gandalf tried to soothe the irritated hobbit.

“Yes yes. But I can’t-“ Bilbo caught himself and shook his head with a frustrated huff. “At least I can hear birds again,” he relaxed a bit at the realization. “How much further, Gandalf?”

“I know a place where we might stop for refuge, but we won’t arrive until dusk tomorrow.”

Bilbo nodded and plodded along. He could feel the trees livening not too far ahead and took comfort in the estimate they would be out of the snow by at least midday. 

“Bilbo?”   
For a reason Bilbo was beyond comprehending, Thorin’s voice sent his blood skittering through his veins at an alarming pace. He took a deep, settling breath and closed his eyes for a moment.   
“I’m sorry, did I startle you?” Thorin looked honestly apologetic, and his sincerity only made Bilbo’s blood pound all the harder.   
“No- not at all,” Bilbo stuttered.

Thorin gave Bilbo a questioning sidelong glance, but let it slide. “I only wanted to say, I don’t think I apologized for… for the way I treated you. Before. When I was- I mean…”  
Bilbo shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”   
“It does. It does matter, Bilbo. I’m… I’m sorry.”

Bilbo’s mouth curved into a grin and he gave Thorin a warm glance. “It’s alright. I think you’ve more than made up for it, Thorin. And along those lines, I don’t think I ever thanked you for coming after me. So, thank you.”  
“I daresay you would’ve done the same,” Thorin commented casually.  
Bilbo nodded. “Yes. I suppose I would. But I’m still grateful.”

Thorin seemed at a loss for words. The two fell into a companionable silence and continued walking together through the morning.

By lunch time, they had finally left the snow behind and found themselves walking through a thriving and beautiful forest. It was just after noon when they decided to stop. Bilbo ate the stew he and Bombur had managed to muster up quickly, then wandered a short distance away to take in the feel of dirt beneath his feet again. 

As soon as Bilbo was out of sight, Thorin found himself surrounded by Dwalin and Balin. The two plopped themselves at either side of the king, and he glanced from one to the other skeptically.

“I know that look,” Balin muttered to his friend.  
Thorin frowned. “What? What look?”  
“The look you were giving that hobbit just now. The look of somebody smitten,” Balin answered with a smirk.  
Thorin suddenly became huffy, sputtering to find the words to deny the accusation.  
“Stop,” Dwalin put a hand up and raised an eyebrow at Thorin’s indignant face. “It’s not for just anybody ye’d climb down a mountain and risk yer royal ass in a snowstorm,” the fierce dwarf stated. “But Thorin, I don’ like it.”

Thorin rested his elbow on one knee, turning to face his friend in disbelief. 

“I know, I know, the lad seems genuine,” Dwalin placated, “but what if it’s all a trick?”

Thorin’s eyes grew wide, his jaw dropping slightly in shock. He blinked it away, face pinching up in irritation. “What are you talking about?”

Balin put a hand on the annoyed dwarf’s wrist. “Thorin, lad, even if that hobbit could possibly return your feelings, what then? You invite him to come live in Erebor? Abandon his warm and cozy home, his family and everything he knows, and for what? To become your consort?” Balin shook his head. “It simply isn’t done, Thorin. We don’t share our ways with outsiders, and, much as we all like Bilbo, he is not a dwarf.”

“I think I’ve heard enough,” Thorin announced as he pushed himself onto his feet. “I appreciate your concern, but I will be making my own decision regarding Bilbo. I don’t want to hear any more on the subject.”

*****

The trees were welcoming, the ground soft and familiar beneath Bilbo’s feet. He dug his toes in, letting the crunch of leaves and feel of rocks and pebbles against his thick soles take over his senses. He closed his eyes, breathing in the sounds and smells of the forest. A smile found its way to his lips when he felt Thorin coming near, the dwarf full of nervous energy with undertones of something the hobbit couldn’t quite name. 

“Thorin,” Bilbo greeted softly, letting the dwarf know he was aware of him.  
Thorin swallowed, and Bilbo felt the dwarf’s tension rise. What had Thorin so nervous?  
“I- I just wanted to check on you,” Thorin said lamely.   
“Oh? Afraid I would wander off and get lost? Or that something would eat me?” Bilbo quipped.

Thorin chuckled lightly, his melancholy lifting slightly. “I don’t think that would be possible.”

“Unlikely, but definitely possible,” Bilbo turned and faced the dwarf with a grin. He enjoyed their banter, the fond looks and the rise of his pulse pleasantly humming in his veins. 

Bilbo truly enjoyed Thorin’s company when the dwarf wasn’t being a complete idiot. 

Bilbo’s face reddened as he realized he had voiced that last thought out loud.

Thorin was shaking his head. “I enjoy your company, too. When you’re not berating me for being an idiot.”

Their laughter was easy, though Bilbo could feel the guard they both kept up with each other. Careful though he was, he could still feel the spark of a fire beginning to light within him, one he had never experienced before. It made him uneasy, but was completely intoxicating in the best of ways. 

Bilbo could feel Thorin’s uneasiness grow, much as he could see it in the way the dwarf’s face fell into a frown and he was suddenly glaring at the grass at his feet.   
“We need to get moving. Don’t be too long,” with that, Thorin spun on his heel and marched away. 

Bilbo tried not to examine Thorin’s dismal mood too closely. Perhaps the dwarf was simply stressed about their rations running low, or the quest in general was weighing on him. Either way, it was clear that something was bothering Thorin. 

*****

Thorin spent the rest of the day alone and avoiding conversation. He gave short answers when spoken to and refused to look anyone in the eye. By the time they stopped for the night, the dwarf could feel Gandalf’s concerned glances and tried very hard not to notice Bilbo’s more disheartened ones. He didn’t feel much like eating as the company settled to make camp, and so he found himself stalking off aimlessly away from the rest of them. He walked for a few minutes, until suddenly the tree line ended, spilling out into a vast field of grasses. The landscape was dusted with occasional shrubbery, and the stars twinkled vast from the open night sky. 

Thorin sighed. He looked out across the field, the silvery light of the moon dusting the breeze blown landscape. He lost himself in his thoughts, pondering Bilbo’s intentions, examining his own feelings, and trying very hard not to be angry with his friends. 

Balin and Dwalin were like family to him. They had been through so much together, had worked together to protect their people. He didn’t hold the official title of king, but his friends had always treated him as such. Would it be so hard for their people to accept a hobbit as their king’s consort? Surely not. Dwarves were suspicious by nature, yes, but they weren’t a hateful race. In time, they would learn to accept Bilbo, and surely they would love him. 

Then again, how could Thorin ask Bilbo to put himself in such a position? How could he ask him to be scrutinized, weighed and measured like a gem for sale? Make him prove himself to a kingdom of dwarves who would meet him with suspicion and mistrust?

He was getting ahead of himself. He didn’t even know how the hobbit felt. It was entirely possible Bilbo simply saw Thorin as a friend. There was no way for him to know how the hobbit felt unless he sat down and asked him, the thought of which made the dwarf want to crawl out of his own skin. What would he possibly do if Bilbo rejected him? How could he handle that level of heartbreak?

Thorin’s thoughts were interrupted by the voice of the very hobbit he was thinking of. 

“Thorin!” 

The dwarf spun around to find Bilbo running toward him, a look of panic on his face.

“Thorin, look out!” Bilbo yelled.

Thorin turned and threw himself to the ground as an arrow sung through the air where his head had been.

“Orcs!” Bofur’s voice yelled from nearby. 

The company placed themselves along the tree line, using the trunks for cover. 

“Thorin!” Dwalin roared from Thorin’s right. “Get yer ass outta there!”

Thorin glanced up, now spotting the group of orcs on wargs advancing towards them across the field. He jumped to his feet drew his sword, ignoring Dwalin’s command.

“There are too many!” Dori shouted as he adopted a fighting stance next to the king.

The wargs reached them, the sound of clashing swords filling the air as the dwarves did their best to ward off their attackers. 

“Where’s Bilbo?” Thorin roared, glancing around. Gandalf was holding back as many as he could, while the dwarves fought of the rest. Thorin turned just in time to stop himself from being torn in two by a powerful set of jaws. His sword sunk deep into the warg’s shoulder, throwing him off balance and allowing the rider to take the advantage. The orc threw himself from his mount, tackling Thorin to the ground even as the dwarf managed to yank his blade from the beast. 

Thorin landed hard on his back, his sword falling to the ground and he threw his hands up to catch the orc by the wrists. The orc pushed with all its weight, the short blades in its hands inching closer and closer to Thorin’s throat. 

The orc was suddenly gone in a flash of red. Thorin sat up and scrambled for his sword. He jumped to his feet once his hand wrapped around the familiar grip and he nearly staggered back when he saw Bilbo plunging his dagger into the chest of Thorin’s would be killer. 

All movement ceased as a thundering roar echoed over the valley. Thorin turned to find the largest bear he had ever seen sprinting toward them. The orcs quickly began to scatter, urging their mounts on as fast as they could manage into the trees. The bear followed, his massive paws swiping the closest from their wargs and trampling them into the ground as he pursued the pack. They disappeared into the forest, leaving a confused silence behind them. 

Thorin shook himself and ran to Bilbo’s side. He pulled Bilbo to his feet, dropping his hands to the hobbit’s shoulders. 

“Are you alright?” Thorin tried his best to cover his panic, but he knew he sounded as horror stricken as he felt. 

“I’m fine,” Bilbo answered shortly before turning to the wizard. “Gandalf, what in the name of Yavanna was that?”

“His name is Beorn,” Gandalf answered. “He has a house nearby, and I daresay it would be in our best interest to reach it before the orcs manage to shake their pursuer.”

Gandalf strode off quickly into the field, the company coming to life as he passed and following him at a brisk pace. It was nearly an hour before they spotted the cottage in the distance, fitted in a little grove of trees. Another hour found them reaching a very large, very hairy man standing at the gate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know what's happening. I had an entire outline put together. Then I start writing, and plot bunnies trip me up and before I know it, things are happening I never planned for and now there is at least one extra chapter because I had to push everything back. I'm as excited as you are to see what happens next! Let me know what you think!


	8. Where Love Grows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the chapter names. They seem to get cheesier as we go.   
> Oh well! Onward!

Beorn was far more welcoming than any of the dwarves thought to expect. His calm and empathetic nature was a sharp contrast to his rough and dangerous exterior. He had invited the company into his home and gave them water and a place to sleep. The dwarves had fallen asleep quickly, exhausted and grateful for a place where they could let their guard down just a bit. The rare situation of safety they found themselves in presented a great opportunity to catch up on their rest and take the time to enjoy some peace. 

When Bilbo awoke, it was to the sound of his stomach protesting very loudly. The dwarves were still asleep, scattered throughout the room and sending a cacophony of rumbling snores through the air. Bilbo sat up and scrambled to his feet. He wove his way carefully around the sleeping bodies, the most delicious smells beckoning him toward the kitchen. 

“Little bunny,” the deep, rumbling voice of the skin changer called to Bilbo, and the hobbit found Beorn standing at the counter with a pan of scones. “Have some breakfast.”

Bilbo walked eagerly up to the counter, more than willing to obey. However, he could not see the countertop. It was far over his head, and he could never hope to reach the scones from where he stood. 

“Er, Mister Beorn sir? Could you-“ Bilbo began.  
Beorn looked down at the hobbit with an amused grin. He reached down and picked Bilbo up under the arms and deposited him on the counter. 

“Eat. I will get you some tea,” Beorn commanded. He turned around and pulled a kettle from the stove and poured a steaming cup for Bilbo. 

“Oh, I- thank you. Thank you very much,” Bilbo smiled at the skin-changer, and Beorn responded with a courteous nod. There was a warmth about Beorn, a kind of feral but nurturing energy Bilbo felt off of him. Bilbo could feel his inner bear, could sense it just as intensely as his more decidedly human form. It was fascinating, severe and sharp, but with blunted edges. Soft, but fierce and strong. Beorn was a walking contradiction. 

Beorn worked quietly for a moment, putting berries and cream into bowls for the company as Bilbo watched in pensive silence. 

“You carry a lot of grief,” Bilbo hadn’t realized he’d decided to voice his thoughts, and he looked at Beorn half expecting the skin-changer to deny or ignore his statement. Instead, Bilbo found intense honey gold eyes locked on his. 

Beorn tilted his head, as if considering the hobbit before him. “Yes, little bunny. I have known great loss.” He turned back to his task, and Bilbo swallowed a bit and licked his lips.   
“I’m sorry,” Bilbo said softly.  
“It is not your apology to make.”  
“No. But I’m sorry just the same.”  
Beorn nodded once. He looked at Bilbo “Thank you. Now come. Your friends are rousing. I’m sure they are hungry.”

Bilbo jumped down from the counter, stumbling a little as he landed, then followed Beorn to the table.

Thorin woke to voices coming from the kitchen. He frowned when he heard the unmistakable sound of their burglar’s laughter ringing out across the room. He leapt up from his bedroll and moved toward the sound, where he found  
most of the company already sitting at the table. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against a pillar, taking in the scene with visible disapproval. 

Thorin watched Bilbo as the hobbit smiled widely at the skin changer. Beorn grinned and fed Bilbo a berry right from his own fingers.

Thorin turned away as he felt something welling up within him. Jealousy rough and jagged, so unexpected it took his breath away. Without a word, he walked out the back door and off into the woods. 

*****

Bilbo had eaten every bite of his breakfast and then some. He had to remind himself though he had barely been awake over an hour, the morning was behind him. He needed to spend some time outside before the light faded. He needed some time to simply be. 

Bilbo wandered outside. He was overcome with excitement when he saw Beorn’s garden around the corner, just out of the line of trees behind the house. Without wasting a moment, he ran out to well tilled soil. He planted his feet in the loose dirt between the tomatoes and the squash, beaming as the sunlight warmed his face and the hum of things that grow filled his head. He sank to the ground and laid down right there in the dirt. He grinned and folded his hands behind his head and began talking to the plants. 

*****

It was early evening, and Bilbo had dozed off, content and peaceful right there in the garden, when he heard a rustling nearby. He opened his eyes and found a deer leaning over him, sniffing at his hair. Bilbo grinned. 

“Don’t you be eating Mr. Beorn’s plants, now,” Bilbo warned softly. The deer perked his ears up and flicked his tail in irritation. “Oh no, don’t think I’ll be falling for that. There is plenty else to eat around here.” The deer simply stepped over him to get closer to the corn. 

Bilbo huffed and rose to his feet. “No,” he set a hand on the deer and patted its back sharply. “Out of the garden now. Go on!”

The deer all but glowered at Bilbo, before it turned tail and bounded off.

“That,” Gandalf’s voice declared, making Bilbo jump, “was most unexpected.”

Bilbo turned around and began fidgeting with his buttons. “Oh. Yes, well, I’m just… sort of an animal lover is all,” he said, flustered.

Gandalf raised his eyebrows, giving Bilbo a look that clearly stated he didn’t quite believe what Bilbo was telling him. 

“Well, I fancy a walk. I think I’ll just-“ Bilbo gestured toward the nearby stream, then he quickly went off in that direction, hoping beyond hope that Gandalf wouldn’t follow. 

Bilbo didn’t stop until he’d reached the bank of the stream, and he sighed with relief when he saw that the wizard had not pursued him. How had he managed to be so careless? After all the time he spent trying to keep at least the strangest of his gifts concealed, he had completely exposed himself. His blood was roiling with anxiety, and it took every ounce of self-control he had for him to calm his breathing. 

When he finally managed to settle himself, Bilbo decided he may as well enjoy the forest stream. He stepped into the cool water, letting it lap over his feet. The surging flow of energy always made Bilbo’s heart race. It held an excitement, a potential for such power and destruction, yet a gentle, soothing quality. It was magical. 

Bilbo waded into the water up to his knees. He giggled as a couple fish approached him and swam between his ankles. They always seemed to find him, and if anyone said that fish couldn’t play, they didn’t know what they were talking about. 

Bilbo lost himself playing with the fish, taking one step and letting them swim circles around his ankle before taking another step. He was so caught up in it, he didn’t realize he was nearing a formerly brooding, now much amused, Thorin. 

Thorin watched with admiration, and no small amount of bewilderment as Bilbo hopped along through the water in the light of the setting sun. It seemed the hobbit was talking to someone, but Thorin could not see anyone around but him. He was sure Bilbo wasn’t talking to him, in fact, it seemed as though the hobbit weren’t aware of his presence at all. 

“Bilbo?”

Bilbo jumped in surprise, stumbling sideways. He hopped on one foot twice, then toppled over into the water. 

Thorin leapt to his feet and ran into the stream as Bilbo rose from the water, sputtering and laughing in equal measure. 

Thorin grinned as he held out a hand, which Bilbo took happily, and led him to dry ground. “I’m so sorry, Bilbo. Are you alright?”

Bilbo chuckled. “Yes, yes I’m alright. A bit chilly, but I suppose I was due for a bath anyway.”

Thorin shook his head and pulled his cloak off, wrapping it snuggly around the hobbit. He met Bilbo’s beaming face as he did so, letting his hands linger over the hobbit’s shoulders.

Bilbo’s smile fell. “Thorin,” he began quizzically, “what were you doing out here anyway?”

Thorin’s eyes widened and he clenched his jaw as he turned away quickly. “Nothing. Just… thinking.”

Bilbo tilted is chin, his brow furrowing slightly. “It doesn’t feel that way. And you’ve been out here all day.”

Thorin rubbed at his eyes, then pinched the bridge of his nose. He refused to meet the hobbit’s gaze, his discomfort rolling from him in tense waves.

“Thorin, I can feel your agitation. Have I upset you?” Bilbo seemed genuinely concerned now, and Thorin couldn’t bear to think he was blaming himself for Thorin’s foul mood. 

“No Bilbo, you haven’t upset me.”  
“Then what has?”  
Thorin huffed and crossed his arms over his chest.  
“I know that look,” Bilbo scolded, coming around to Thorin’s front. “I know you are going to try to wall me out and abandon this entire conversation. Something is bothering you, and I need to know what it is. I know it’s something to do with me, and I can’t let you keep closing off on me like this.”

Thorin didn’t respond. He turned his head away, avoiding Bilbo’s piercing gaze. He turned to walk away, but stopped as a gentle hand gripped his wrist. 

“Thorin,” Bilbo’s voice was firm, and Thorin couldn’t help but to stay where he was. 

Bilbo took a deep breath, bracing himself for the leap. “You and I both know there has been… that we have shared… a fondness.”

Thorin finally turned and met the hobbit’s eye, one eyebrow raised in surprise at the hobbit’s boldness. Although, by now he thought perhaps he should be used to Bilbo doing the unexpected.

Bilbo gave the dwarf an assessing look. “We have been… tip toeing on the edge of something for a while now, but the last few days, you have been… different. Agitated. Distant.”

Thorin sighed, dropping his gaze to somewhere around Bilbo’s feet. 

“Thorin, what is it?” Bilbo demanded.

“What do you want of me?” Thorin’s voice was quiet, hard, but laced with a defeat Bilbo had never heard from the dwarf.

Bilbo frowned and shook his head, panic beginning to rise in his throat. “What- what do you mean?”

Thorin met Bilbo’s eyes, his own blazing with an intense, unnamed emotion. “What do you want of me? What exactly do you expect I can offer you?”

Bilbo swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat, blinking at the surge of heartbreak already cracking through him. 

“I cannot promise you a future. I do not know if I have one. I cannot give you a home, out in the open with quaint farms and gardens and trees and rivers. A home of fertile soil thriving with life. Erebor is my home, a mountain deep and dark. If we are successful, if I do have a future, that is where I must remain. With the cold rock and lifeless stone.”

Bilbo let out the breath he had been holding. He shook his head at the ground, then fixed Thorin with a shy grin. “Rock and stone is not lifeless,” he took Thorin’s hands in his own, looking down where he slowly began interlacing their fingers. “Dwarves themselves were made from stone, were they not? And I do not care about a future, not unless it involves you.” 

It took Thorin a moment to recover after such a declaration. When he finally managed to gather his thoughts, he squeezed Bilbo’s hands and shook his head impatiently.  
“That is all well and good, Bilbo. But how can I ask you to give up your home and stay in one that is strange and foreign? How can I ask you to prove yourself and try to win over a people who will be wary and suspicious of your intentions?”

Bilbo met Thorin’s eye earnestly. “I have felt more at home with you and your kin than I ever have felt in my life. If I have to prove myself to your people in order to keep that, who are you to deny me the chance?”

Thorin’s mouth worked silently as he stood lost for words and helpless in Bilbo’s affectionate stare. He blinked against his shock, then a grin slowly overtook his features. He let his hands brush over Bilbo’s wet sleeves and up until he was cupping the hobbit’s face. Bilbo’s hands covered Thorin’s, and they both leaned slowly in until their lips met in a gentle kiss. Thorin pulled back hesitantly, gauging Bilbo’s reaction.

Bilbo leaned in again, reaching around and burying his hands in the hair at Thorin’s nape, pulling the dwarf in until their lips met again. He melted into Thorin as the dwarf dropped his hands to Bilbo’s back and pulled him closer. 

After what felt like hours and yet only mere seconds, Bilbo pulled away. He let his eyes flicker open slowly, his heart now pounding behind his ribs. He looked up at Thorin. The dwarf was impossibly beautiful in the moonlight, fireflies dancing all around him and….. Bilbo could have sworn those flowers weren’t there before. He took a step back and looked around.

Thorin’s gaze followed Bilbo’s. All around them, wildflowers began to bloom. They came in every shape, color, and size, concentrated around their feet, and thinning as they grew out away from them.

“Bilbo?” Thorin questioned as the hobbit gazed around in horror. 

Bilbo looked up, terror in his eyes before he fled, running as fast and as far from Thorin as he could get.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it! Please comment if you did!


	9. Lifeforce Displacement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my goodness, here we go.

Thorin stood in shock, staring at the place where Bilbo had disappeared off into the trees. He warred with the emotions within him, struggling to make sense of the night’s events. He was completely confused as to what had set Bilbo off. The hobbit had finally breached the subject they had both been too afraid to face, and Thorin admired Bilbo’s straightforwardness and bravery to do such a thing. Thorin knew he could be intimidating and wasn’t always the most approachable, but it never seemed to deter Bilbo. The hobbit had all but slapped Thorin in the face with it, then ran away in the wake of… wildflowers? 

It didn’t make sense. Perhaps Bilbo hadn’t been set off by the flowers at all. Maybe Thorin had done something to unknowingly offend? Hobbits, after all, were a very proper people. Gandalf would surely know. 

Without another thought, Thorin went off toward the house, determined to find the wizard and solve his mystery.

*****

Bilbo ran until he found the garden again. Then he stopped, dropping his hands to his knees and tried to catch his breath.  
What had just happened?  
Bilbo ran over the last several minutes in his head.  
He had kissed Thorin.  
Right. That was- yes. Yes that happened. One moment, he was reassuring Thorin of his regard for him, the next, it felt…. Well it felt as though Thorin were pouring his soul into Bilbo. It warmed him to the core and filled him with light. Bilbo had been so overwhelmed with it, it must have just…. Poured out of him and into the ground? Could it work that way? He had always sort of borrowed energy from nature. Could he give it back? And where did it come from? 

Bilbo thought on it until his head hurt. He hid himself in the rows of corn until he heard Thorin pass, the dwarf’s feet trudging sadly beneath him. He hated to have hurt Thorin that way, but he had been absolutely mortified. What kind of freak causes botanic outbursts during a first kiss? Not exactly the effect Bilbo had been going for. He curled up in the dirt, wishing he could live out the rest of his life right there and never have to face any other living being again.

*****

The air was cool when Bilbo woke. He frowned as he took a moment to find his bearings, then he remembered where he was. And what had happened the night before. 

Bilbo groaned in frustration and sat up, rubbing at his eyes with his fists. He had no intention of facing anyone today, and as such he decided Beorn could forgive him for eating from his garden for breakfast. He had just begun picking through the tomatoes when he heard footsteps approaching. 

Gandalf.

Bilbo cringed, overcome with the urge to hide between the plant rows. Of course, that would be most unbecoming of a hobbit of his age, and so he turned to greet Gandalf head on with the most natural smile he could muster.

“Good morning, Gandalf,” Bilbo said lightly, though his posture clearly spoke otherwise.

“Is it?” the wizard asked in a tone that told Bilbo he would not be politely following Bilbo’s lead of pretending nothing was amiss.

Bilbo sighed out a breath, nearly deflating himself with the act. “What do you want?” he decided against mincing words and got right to the heart of it.

Gandalf looked slightly taken aback. He regained himself quickly and took a deep and settling breath. “Thorin told me what happened last night.”

Bilbo’s eyes widened, his face warming at the thought of Thorin sharing intimate details with the wizard. “Oh?” He tried innocently.

“He told me… there was an incident involving flowers?” Gandalf pressed.

Bilbo blinked a few times, swallowing thickly and working his mouth in an attempt to get it to cooperate. “A-and?”

Gandalf sighed, somehow managing to look older than he usually did. Bilbo frowned. How old exactly was Gandalf? He’d never thought to ask.

“Bilbo, there is something that…. I need to tell you.”

Bilbo’s frown deepened, his eyes filling with distrust and he took a step back. What in all of the name of Arda could Gandalf be about to disclose? The wizard’s discomfiture was alarming, and Bilbo wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

“I wasn’t made aware until Rivendell. I didn’t know it was possible. In any case, it is my responsibility to tell you.”

_The day Belladonna returned from her travels with a wizard in tow, the Shire was all abuzz with the gossip. None but hobbits had ever entered The Shire, at least that they could remember. And here was this wizard, a member of the big folk, walking through as comfortable as if he belonged there. The children all seemed taken with him, especially when he shot off his whizz poppers, but the adults wouldn't be fooled. Gandalf was a troublemaker._  
_Every year or so, Gandalf would come to the Shire. He would give a show for the little ones, then he and Belladonna would run off together, gone anywhere from several days to several weeks. They would return and say their goodbyes, and he would be gone again. Belladonna would sulk for days following the wizard’s departure. She wouldn't eat and she hardly slept. The more gossipy hobbits suspected, but only behind closed doors, that Belladonna and Gandalf were something of an item. It was the scandal of The Shire._  


_Belladonna would never tell, but the gossips weren't far from the truth. She loved Gandalf, as impossible as it was. Every book she had ever read insisted wizards didn't fall in love, but Bella couldn't help the way she felt. Gandalf was kind, patient, and always up for an adventure. He was different, not as closed minded as hobbits always were, and he appreciated her eccentricities, never blaming or judging her for being so different. In fact, the things that made her a terrible hobbit were the things he seemed to like about her the best. _  
__

_It was mid-summer when Gandalf came to visit for the last time. He knew, when he had decided to come to The Shire, that this would be his last adventure with Bella. He was well aware of her feelings towards him, and of the fact that she would need to settle down, get married and start a family like a hobbit her age should have done by now. He couldn't hold her back, couldn't let her continue on that way, following him through forest and over hill, watching the longing in her eyes and letting her hang on his every word and deed. It wasn't fair. Not to mention, the gossip surrounding Belladonna pained Gandalf. He heard it from several hobbits themselves how she mourned when he left her._  


_They had been gone for several weeks, had visited Rivendell and spent nights in discussion with Elrond._ _They were on their way back when Gandalf stopped short in the middle of the road. Bella turned and looked at him in question._  


_“My dear Bella,” Gandalf began softly, then he floundered, the words he had practiced in his head suddenly alluding him._ _It wasn't natural, for a wizard to be rendered speechless, but the knowing look on her face, the sad smile, had nearly shattered him._  


_“I know,” she whispered softly, her eyes filling with tears. She turned and continued on, letting them fall silently._ _They had gone on for several minutes when she stopped and bent down to pick something up. When she stood again, she turned around. A butterfly lay in her hands, struggling to move. Its wing was ripped, and it was apparent the creature was near death. She looked devastated, the state of the butterfly enhancing her grief, and Gandalf would do anything to take that hopeless look from her eyes. He dropped to his knees, wrapping his hands around hers where they cradled the creature to her chest._  


_Bella’s hands were warm and soft, and Gandalf felt a deep fondness for her unlike any he had felt for anyone before. He wished to make her happy, keep her safe above all others. He would do anything for his dear Belladonna. He closed his eyes, pulling on the life force around them. He leaned in close, placing his lips to her fingers and blew into their clasped hands. Bright, pure light shone from between their fingers. It heated their joined hands and seeped into Bella’s skin. Her body felt awash with light, and Bella felt a warmth settle within her._  


_Bella opened her hands, revealing a perfectly healthy and healed butterfly. She smiled as it fluttered off into the trees. Gandalf kissed her hand gently and stood. They kept their hands clasped together between them and exchanged searching looks. Finally, she pushed up onto her toes, and Gandalf couldn't help but to lean down and receive her soft chaste kiss._  


_When finally they began walking again, Gandalf glanced over at her. She gave him a beautiful and hopeful smile, and he couldn't help but smile back. She took his hand again and giggled, and soon they were crossing back into The Shire, singing walking songs and laughing. They must have made quite a sight, though nobody was out at that time in the evening, and if she hugged Gandalf for longer than was proper and kissed him on the cheek before he left, nobody would have known._

Bilbo stared blankly at Gandalf, wondering what the hell to make of it. “So you- you slept with my mother?!” he accused angrily.  
“No! No, nothing like that,” Gandalf looked absolutely scandalized at the very idea. “I had never heard of such a thing happening before. Galadriel called it lifeforce displacement.”  
“Who the hell is Galadriel?” Bilbo asked, irritation and dread overwhelming him in equal measure.  
“Well she’s- she’s an elf. That’s about all you need to really know,” Gandalf answered kindly.  
“Alright, wait wait wait,” Bilbo held his hands out agitatedly, shifting from one foot to the other. “What exactly are you telling me?”  
“When a… someone with magic… loves someone… or feels very strongly, I suppose? I’m not entirely sure on the details of it all-“  
“Gandalf, get to the point.”  
“What seems to happen, or has the possibility of happening, is the.. potency of that love can sometimes….” Gandalf floundered, searching for the right way to put it. “Take existing life and… enhance it. Or duplicate it if you will.”  
Bilbo stood perfectly still, frowning and blinking blankly as he took all of that in. He clenched his jaw and tilted his head with a sour expression, as though he had a lemon in his mouth.  
“You’re talking about what happened with me and Thorin? With the flowers?” Bilbo asked hopefully.  
“Well yes. And no,” Gandalf answered, making things just as clear as he always seemed to.  
“And- and my mother?” Bilbo gave Gandalf a hard stare, as if he could intimidate the answer he wanted out of the wizard.  
“Yes. I- I seemed to have accidently…. breathed life into her.” Gandalf waited for Bilbo to voice the obvious, but the hobbit was far too busy looking sick. “You are a product of that love, Bilbo Baggins.”  
Bilbo gave a sarcastic laugh, his demeaner becoming all the more frantic. “I suppose now you’ll expect me to call you Father, hm? And- and don’t tell me you’ll start coming round for the holidays. Oh, I just can’t wait to see the look on Lobelia’s face when she finds out-” Bilbo stopped, his face dropping as he gave Gandalf a heartbroken look. “I’m not really a Baggins.”  
*****  
Bilbo sat in the garden for the remainder of the day. The dwarves took turns coming out to see him, to bring him food and try to get him to talk, but Bilbo just sat. He sat on the ground, his knees to his nose and arms wrapped tightly around them, refusing any company. It was dark again when Beorn appeared. Without a word, he hefted Bilbo into his arms and carried him to a spare bedroom. He deposited the hobbit carefully on the bed and pulled the blanket up over him.  
“Beorn?” Bilbo’s weak voice called as the skin-changer turned to leave, “Will you lock the door?”  
Beorn pressed his lips together thoughtfully, his eyes raking over Bilbo’s forlorn face. “Yes. I will lock it, Little Bunny. But you must accept meals when I bring them. I can see you need time alone. Your friends will be reassured of your health, and I will see to it.”  
Bilbo nodded his agreement and sighed with relief when Beorn finally left and closed the door. He felt numb, as though he were separate from his body and watching everything from outside himself. It was much easier to live outside the pain, outside the feeling of empty loss he knew was within him.  
Bilbo stared blankly at the ceiling, avoiding existing within his own mind and somehow managed to fall into a troubled and light sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this clears a few things up! Poor Bilbo. Let me know what you think!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Sorry this has taken so long. This chapter is horribly short, but it wasn't ready and I couldn't bring myself to force it before it was ready to be written. Therefore, I cut the chapter in half so that I could give you all something, but not something I hadn't been able to give the proper time and consideration. Please hang in there! I will be slower to post in the coming weeks, as I have several things going on with the holidays ahead!   
> As always, enjoy!

Bilbo stayed in his room for two days. The company gave up trying to coax him into unlocking the door by the end of the first day. Their efforts were always met with a cold and resounding silence.

Thorin took heart in Beorn’s daily reports. The skin-changer dutifully gave the dwarves an update of Bilbo’s health every morning and evening. But it wasn’t enough for Thorin. On the morning of the third day, he could wait no longer. They were set to leave the next morning, and Bilbo had shown no sign of planning to emerge from his room.

Thorin approached the bedroom, mind reeling for a way to convince Bilbo to let him in. He knocked softly on the door without ever having settled on a plan. The usual silence greeted him, and he huffed out a sigh, completely discouraged. “Thorin?”

The dwarf king startled at the sound of the gruff voice and turned to find Dwalin and Ori standing in the hallway behind him. “We didn’t mean to sneak up on you sire, we only meant to tell you, Dwalin and I saw Bilbo heading outside early this morning, before dawn,” Ori said timidly. Thorin raised an eyebrow, looking over his best friend and the young scribe. “And what were the two of you doing up together before dawn?” he asked with a smirk.

Ori looked away and blushed.

“None a yer damn business, that’s what!” Dwalin responded. “Yer hobbit is out in the woods. Go find ‘im so we can leave!” Thorin raised an eyebrow at his friend, deciding to save the teasing for later, and headed off to find Bilbo. Once outside, it wasn’t difficult to find the hobbit. A gloomy fog had settled close to the ground, cradled amongst the trunks of the trees, but only in certain areas. It created a gloomy path that led Thorin straight to Bilbo.

Thorin moved slowly and quietly, though he knew with no doubt that the hobbit had sensed his approach. He came upon Bilbo leaning against the trunk of a tree. A squirrel stood nearby, and the two seemed to be in deep conversation, which still seemed ridiculous to Thorin, though he knew it was most likely the case. “I want to be alone,” Bilbo said abruptly, his gaze never leaving his rodent friend. The squirrel looked up as Thorin came closer, and scampered up the tree trunk. He perched on a low branch and chattered angrily at the dwarf. Thorin couldn’t help but feel as though he deserved it, although he wasn’t sure why. “Please,” Thorin began softly, “I only want to talk.”

“I know Gandalf has told you, and I don’t need a ‘it’s not me, it’s you’ talk right now. If you want nothing to do with me Thorin Oakenshield, I more than completely understand. I don’t even want anything to do with me.” The back of Bilbo’s head hit the tree trunk with a thud. “I can’t discuss anything with you until I can manage to process all of-“ he flapped his hand for lack of words, “this.”

“But Bilbo-“

“I can’t!” A clap of thunder rumbled as Bilbo turned an angry gaze upon the dwarf. Bilbo sighed as the clouds began to gather. “I can’t, Thorin.”

Thorin took a step closer, then his face fell in defeat, an earnest desperation spreading over his features even as the ground began to shake. The grassy soil split as a bramble of thorns grew between them, effectively stopping Thorin’s attempt to close the distance.

Thorin sighed. “Alright, you need your space. Please Bilbo, don’t make it forever, because I will be waiting for you.” He gave Bilbo a watery smile and walked away.  
*****

They set out the next morning, astride borrowed horses slightly too large for anyone’s comfort. The only ones who seemed unbothered were Gandalf and Bilbo, and that was probably because of their connection to animals. The reminder of their similarities only depressed Bilbo further.

Bilbo avoided conversation at all costs, riding near the back of the group and giving only the shortest of answers when approached. He lost himself in his own head, mulling over things and trying to make sense of it all.

Had his mother known? His father? Or was Gandalf actually his father? Was Bilbo a wizard?

The thoughts made him dizzy. It was overwhelming at best to ponder so many things all at one time. Bilbo began to develop a headache from all the stress as he bounced along behind the rest of the group. He stopped and pushed the heel of his hand against his temple and flinched. It was then he noticed his stomach felt twisted, he frowned and looked around for the first time in several hours.

“We’re here,” Gandalf muttered from Bilbo’s right. “I know you can feel it.”  
Bilbo’s frown deepened as he scanned the edge of the forest.  
“The Greenwood, it is called. Though now, most refer to it as Mirkwood,” Gandalf announced as they halted and jumped down from their mounts.

Bilbo doubled over as his feet hit the ground. Oh, it was horrid. The grass below his feet felt sick. Instead of the cool, earthy nuttiness he was accustomed to, the ground beneath him tasted sour; oozing and angry and foul.

“This forest is sick,” Bilbo declared.

Gandalf turned and gave him a sympathetic look. “Yes. Yes, there is something evil at work here.” The wizard turned toward the forest again, his spine rigid and tensing as he scanned the area. Suddenly he turned and swept off to grab his horse before Bombur could send it back to its owner.

“Hold my horse!” Gandalf demanded.  
“You’re leaving us?” Bilbo asked incredulously. “Now? Just after declaring this forest is evil?”  
“I’m sorry, dear Bilbo,” Gandalf said as he mounted his horse. “I have matters to address. I will meet you at the Lonely Mountain. Do not enter it until I return!”  
With that, Gandalf rode back the way they had come, leaving a confused company of dwarves and frustrated hobbit at the entrance to the forest.


	11. Mirkwood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long. When the holidays are over, my focus will turn back to this fic.  
> I don't know if this is even any good. I admitted defeat when I accidently deleted my entire outline for the next chapter. My entire. Outline. The whole thing. Just gone. 
> 
> Anyways!!!!!! Sorry. Felt the need to vent that a bit. Without further ado, here is our next chapter!  
> And if you hadn't noticed, out chapter total has jumped yet again!

Bilbo was miserable. He kept his senses reigned in, the thick, tar like feel of the forest made him sick to his stomach. The ground tasted sour and rotten, much like Bilbo’s mood. His headache had increased in intensity, as though the forest itself held his head in a vice.  
After walking for most of the day, it became clear to the dwarves that Bilbo was not taking the forest well. Not that any of them were, but Bilbo in particular seemed to be having a terrible time. His movements were sluggish, his eyes unfocused as he trudged along with the company.  
Thorin shot another worried glance back at the hobbit. He had been watching Bilbo since they entered the forest, concerned with the intensity with which it seemed to affect him. Bilbo was more unsteady on his feet that Thorin had ever seen. He watched as his hobbit staggered sideways again, this time running into a tree trunk. The dwarf froze in place as Bilbo wrapped his arms around the trunk and closed his eyes wearily.  
“Thorin?” Dwalin set a questioning hand on the king’s shoulder, but Thorin didn’t seem to notice. He made his way back through the rest of the company until he reached Bilbo’s side. He carefully reached out to touch Bilbo’s face, then thought better of it and pulled his hand back.  
“Bilbo?” Thorin whispered close to the hobbit’s ear. “Bilbo, are you alright?”  
Bilbo’s breathing was ragged, his face pinched up in discomfort as he clung to the rough bark of what looked like the most healthy tree in the forest.  
“Mmph,” Bilbo mumbled.  
“Bilbo?” Thorin asked.  
There was only a groan in response.  
Thorin sighed and turned to the rest of the company. “We will stop for the night in the next agreeable place. Dwalin will lead.”  
Fili and Kili shot worried looks at their uncle, but decided it would be best to leave Bilbo to him. They joined the rest and followed as Dwalin searched for a place for them to make camp.  
Thorin set a gentle hand to Bilbo’s forehead. The hobbit was hot and clammy to the touch, and it worried Thorin terribly. With little other choice, he hoisted Bilbo up into his arms and carried him until they could find a good place for a camp site. Bilbo didn’t complain. He let out a few half-hearted groans, and then dozed off.  
*****  
Bilbo pinched his eyes closed tight. He was disoriented, completely unsure of where he was and why. His head was pounding, and he felt as though the ground were moving beneath him. Reluctantly, he squinted one eye open, only to find he was laying down on a bedroll, securely placed between Thorin and Kili. The sudden rush of visual information seemed too much for Bilbo. He crawled a short distance from his bedroll and heaved. He hadn’t eaten in the last couple days, and his stomach clenched painfully around the emptiness within it. He groaned as he rolled up to sitting and tried to gain his bearings.  
Kili snuffled in his sleep a short distance away, and Bilbo started at the sound. He frowned, the hairs on the back of his neck suddenly standing on end, his senses at attention as he scanned his surroundings. The darkness around them was thicker, more heavy than the average darkness. The spaces between the trees held an empty blackness, suffocating and ominous. There were no sounds of crickets or creatures of the night, but when Bilbo held his breath, he could hear the skittering of many feet.  
There was something out there.  
Bilbo crawled over to Thorin as quickly as he could manage. He grabbed Thorin’s shoulder and shook him violently.  
“Thorin!” He whispered frantically. “Thorin, we’re being watched!”

Thorin rolled up to sitting, immediately on the alert. No sooner had he managed to clear his eyes of the sleep clinging to them, there was a chorus of hissing voices as an impossibly enormous spider stalked its way out from between the trees.  
“Up! Take up arms!” Thorin bellowed as he leapt to his feet. The giant arachnid had begun to charge, meeting Thorin at the edge of camp. Others were coming in behind it and the dwarves were leaping to the defense.  
Bilbo was impressed at the speed with which the company had reacted from a dead sleep, though he would not have time to think about that until later. All he could think about now was that his dwarves were being attacked by giant monsters and all he carried was a dagger that would be all but useless against a foe so large. He was completely defenseless.  
Well. Maybe not completely.  
Much as he hated to do it, Bilbo braced himself, planting his feet firmly and drew on the forest around him. The lifeforce was so very different here. It moved sluggishly like swamp muck, leaving an oily residue as it channeled through him. Bilbo grimaced at the feel, but pushed on as much as he dared. He focused on the two spiders nearest him, one being taken on by a battle crazed Dwalin, and the other doing its best against Thorin and Balin. With a deep breath, he stretched his arms out and flicked his wrists up, fingers curled into the air and vines shot from the ground at the monster’s feet. They coiled up around the spider’s legs and held them fast to the ground, allowing their opponents to neatly slice off their heads or in Dwalin’s case, bury a battle axe in their face with a victorious roar.  
Bilbo turned to the next spiders he could see and quickly repeated the process. He had managed to help kill about five of them, before the sticky thick energy seemed to clog up. Bilbo dropped to his knees, nearly unable to catch his breath. He gazed around the battle surrounding him, wondering if the dwarves could possibly keep so many spiders at bay by themselves. He was considering the likeliness of them getting out alive, when suddenly, a large number of the spiders began collapsing, arrows protruding from their bodies in clumps. Bilbo searched for the source of the arrows, and quickly spotted the party of elves leaping through the branches as though they were a seamless part of the trees.  
The elves slaughtered the spiders easily, those that didn’t manage to escape and retreat, then they surrounded the company, weapons aimed to kill and fierce looks of distaste on their perfect features.  
“Who are you that dare to enter the king’s forest uninvited?” a blonde male elf asked coolly.  
“Who’s askin?” Dwalin grumbled in response.  
The elf rested his haughty gaze on the dwarf, a sneer on his lips. “Do not think that I would hesitate to kill you, dwarf,” he spat, saying the word as if it in and of itself were a curse.  
“What’s this one?” a lighter, warmer voice called, gaining the other’s attention. “He’s surely not a dwarf.”  
The redhead female had Bilbo by the back of his jacket, holding him in place, but not too roughly.  
“He’s with us!” Kili announced, his voice firm but a bit shrill.  
“Legolas, this one makes me uneasy,” the redhead declared.  
“I have a name, you know. I’m not just a thing!” Bilbo argued shaking the elf’s grip from his tattered jacket.  
“Your name is of no matter to me. You will all be brought before the king to declare your purpose,” the one name Legolas declared as he made his way back through the rest of his number. “Bind them. We’ll see what my father has to say about our…. Guests.”  
*****  
A short while later, the company found themselves being marched through an elven kingdom vastly different from the last they had seen. The dwarves all looked defeated, various expressions of hopelessness on their faces, all but Thorin. The dwarf king looked as though he marched to war, proud, determined, and strong.  
Bilbo moved to catch up with Balin in front of him. He tried with great difficulty not to show the relief he felt at being in a location that didn’t make him feel so ill. The air here was still clean, the stone and dirt beneath him teeming with vibrations of life. A stream trickled through between the paths, it’s waters strong and clear, and Bilbo breathed in the crisp scent, the sticky tarriness lessening within him.  
“Balin,” Bilbo whispered over the shuffling of many feet, “why is everyone so terrified of these elves?”  
Balin gave the hobbit a sad and loaded glance. “These elves are not like their kin,” he whispered back, but his body language made it clear that was all he would say on the subject.  
Bilbo frowned to himself as they were led into a large room, a vast chamber filled with elves, all shooting the company distrustful looks. The general energy in the room was stifling, hatred and anger fueled with fear and distrust. Once they had stopped in the center of the room, Bilbo closed his eyes for a moment, trying to shield himself from the onslaught. They shot open again, however, when a firm and demanding voice echoed over the room.  
“Are these the vagrants who dared to trespass in my forest?”  
Bilbo’s head snapped up at the question, and his jaw dropped slightly as he spotted the elf responsible for the biting words. The elf was impossibly pale, his hair a halo of white golden light and eyes the color of icy blue sky. He rose from his ornate throne before the company and glided to stand before them. His movements were impossibly fluid, grace and ethereal beauty dripping from him like his silk flowing robes.  
“Ah,” the elf grinned deviously as he eyed Thorin, “Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror. You are far from the Blue Mountains, my friend.”  
Thorin gave a deathly glare. “Friend?” he spat. He shook his head in disdain. “No dwarf would stand to be insulted with being called such in regards to the likes of Thranduil the Spineless King of Sprites.”  
King Thranduil did not react but for his expression hardening a fraction. He tilted his head dangerously and regarded the dwarf before him. “What are you doing in my forest?” Thranduil asked pointedly.  
“Our business is none of your concern,” Thorin responded.  
“Ah, the King Under the Mountain has set course to reclaim his throne,” the elf’s voice was lilting, teasing the dwarf as though he were making a grand joke. “There is no king under the mountain. His kingdom has been taken and destroyed, as will be his fate should he try to reclaim it.”  
“You know not of what you speak,” Thorin growled between gritted teeth.  
Thranduil circled Thorin slowly, taking in the dwarf’s torn and poorly repaired clothing, the filth covering the dwarf from head to toe, and the way Thorin, despite his best efforts, was obviously starving and exhausted. He considered the dwarf, as though deciding what angle to play. His eyes scanned over the company, doubling back when he spotted Bilbo, silently standing near the back of the group.  
“What’s this?” Thranduil trilled, curiosity peeked. “A halfling,” he declared then glanced at the group protecting Bilbo, “and his guard dogs.” Thranduil gave Fili, Kili, Bofur, and Bifur little more than a passing glance. “Bring him to me,” Thranduil demanded, glancing at his guards.  
“No,” Thorin asserted. “The halfling is under our protection.”  
“Clearly,” Thranduil mused. “However as this is my kingdom, I believe I am well within my rights to question any trespasser from your sad little band that I may.” He looked at his guards again. “Bring. Him. To me.” Thranduil turned and swept back to his throne, taking his seat in a swirl of silvery robes.  
The dwarves protested, but at a nod from Thorin, they allowed Bilbo to be escorted forward, until he stood before the elven king.  
Thranduil eyed Bilbo with deepening curiosity, and the hobbit felt as though he were being dissected under a jewelers loop.  
“Tell me your name,” Thranduil commanded, lilting is head to the side.  
“My name is Bilbo Baggins. I am a hobbit of The Shire.” Bilbo’s voice was sturdy, there was no fear there.  
“Bilbo Baggins. You are certainly no ordinary halfling.” 


	12. The Halls of the Elven King

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovlies! Please forgive the long break. I had three gift exchange fics to write, and then it took quite a bit to get back into the groove with this fic. I finally have managed to put this chapter together, after losing all the notes I had and having to start from scratch. Hopefully I will be getting back on track and posting every week again!

Bilbo eyed the pompous elf king as he laid back against his throne, arms casually draped over the armrest and legs crossed. He looked like a great cat; relaxed, in no hurry to maul his prey, set to simply torture and pick it apart. Bilbo felt the fluid energy common to elves emanating off the king, but even his signature aura felt feline in nature. 

“No,” Bilbo began, “I am no ordinary hobbit. And I’ll thank you to show my friends a little more respect, if you please.”  
One perfectly shaped brow arched, thin lips curling up on one side. “And if I don’t please?”

“One would think a king of such a vast kingdom would be more tactful in his dealings with outsiders.”

Thranduil nearly laughed out at the declaration. “Well, little one, you are sharp tongued, aren’t you? Come closer.”  
Bilbo scowled pointedly at their captor, before taking a few hesitant steps toward the throne.

“Hmmm…” Thranduil leaned forward quickly and took one of Bilbo’s hands before the hobbit could flinch. He stood stiff and still, waiting for the unnerving elf to release him. Cold blue eyes poured into his, then Thranduil abruptly dropped his hand and sat back with a satisfied grin.   
“Very interesting,” Thranduil muttered. “Well, Bilbo Baggins, I will give you a choice. You can come with me and negotiate your release, and your friends may stay as guests so long as they behave themselves, or, you can all spend eternity in the dungeons.”

“No!” Thorin’s voice echoed through the room, and the elves shifted uncomfortably at his demanding tone.   
Thranduil gave Thorin a glare, then turned back to Bilbo. “Make your choice.”

“That is hardly a choice, is it?” Bilbo asked. He heaved a sigh and nodded in defeat. “Alright then. I will negotiate with you, King Thranduil, under two conditions.”  
Thranduil’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “I don’t believe you are in any position to be making demands, halfling.”  
Bilbo gave the elf a hard look. “I am not a half of anything. I’ll thank you not to refer to me as such again.”   
Thranduil smirked at the audacious creature before him, but didn’t argue.  
“You must allow Thorin to accompany me if we are to negotiate, and my friends are to be treated kindly as guests,” Bilbo stated firmly.   
“And if I should refuse?”  
Bilbo tilted his chin down and narrowed his eyes. “That would be excessively rude.”  
Thranduil considered the hobbit. He could tell there was something simmering below the surface, like the calm before a storm.  
“Very well,” Thranduil rose from his throne. “Take the dwarves to the guest rooms,” he ordered his guards. He looked pointedly at Bilbo, the cocky grin finding its way back to his face. “Come. Bring your guard dog. We have much to discuss, little hobbit,” Thranduil said as he took a few steps closer. “Or should I say, little wizard?”

*****

Bilbo gazed around the elf king’s study. The walls were lined with books, a great ornate desk stood in the center of the room with two intricately carved chairs in front of it. A fire crackled in the hearth behind the desk, and next to it Thranduil poured two glasses of elvish wine. 

“Now,” Thranduil turned, handing Bilbo a glass, “have a seat, Mr. Baggins, so that we may attempt to come to an agreement.”  
Bilbo took the glass and sat himself in one of the too-tall chairs, Thorin choosing to stand beside him with his arms crossed and an irritated scowl on his face. The hatred and loathing were suffocating, Bilbo nearly regretted demanding Thorin come with him for this meeting.   
“What is this all about?” Bilbo asked, furrowing his brow at the elf king. 

Thranduil smirked, settling himself in the chair behind the desk as though it were his throne. Though, judging by the size, it nearly could have been.  
“Well,” Thranduil began, “I was going to ask you to steal a few very precious items for me from the dragon horde, but I have a feeling you wouldn’t be willing to rob Thorin Oakenshield.”

Thorin’s chest rumbled with a low growl.

Thranduil shot Thorin an impatient glower. “Calm yourself, mut. Obviously I’ve changed my mind.” He turned back to Bilbo, who was leveling the elf with a warning look. “However, as reasonable as you appear to be, I think we can come to some sort of agreement.”

“What is it you want of me, then?” Bilbo asked impatiently.

“There are white gems in that mountain, gems of starlight promised to the elves by the dwarves long ago. Those gems were kept from us, and I must insist they are given to their rightful owners, if by some miracle you and that pack of dogs manage to survive the dragon.”

Bilbo considered for a moment, before turning to Thorin. “Do these gems hold any significant meaning to the dwarves?”

Thorin was nearly shaking with repressed rage. “They must be paid for! We held up our end of the bargain, and the elves couldn’t be bothered to pay us what we were owed!” Thorin let his arms drop to his sides as his fists clenched.

“Thorin,” Bilbo shot the dwarf a warning look. “Do they hold significant meaning?”

Thorin slowly pulled his arms back up to cross before his chest. “No,” he finally bit out.

“Very well then,” Bilbo turned back to Thranduil. “I will agree to your terms. The gems will count as part of my one fourteenth share, and I will give them to you.” Bilbo looked at the dwarf again pointedly. “King Thorin and I will decide on the specifics of my share at a later time.”

Thorin took the hint and remained silent, after the huff of irritation he allowed to escape. 

“Is that all then?” Bilbo asked the elf hopefully.  
“No.” Thranduil rose and began to pace behind the desk, swirling his wine in his cup thoughtfully. “I know you are quite powerful, I can feel it. Almost like our mutual… acquaintance Gandalf, but more… earthy. Tell me, what exactly are your gifts?”  
“Oh… well, my powers are… nature related?” Bilbo supplied.  
“Can they be used in battle?” Thranduil asked with a glint in his eye.  
Bilbo frowned in confusion and shook his head. “I’ve never considered such a thing, least ways not more than protecting myself.”  
Thranduil sighed dramatically, his shoulders slumping as he turned to face the hobbit again. “Then what use are you, really? No better than that half whit Radagast. Useless wizard, though perhaps he has more use than you seem to have!”

Thorin had heard enough. He lunged toward the elf king, and Thranduil’s guards were quick to react. They moved swiftly from the doors where they had been standing watch to grab Thorin round the wrists. He twisted and pulled himself free just as the ground began to shake. The elves stopped in alarm and watched as a gap grew in the floor where twisted tree roots began crawling up to and winding themselves into a wall between Thorin and Bilbo and the two elven guards.   
The elves readied their swords to attack the obstacle, but Thranduil shot out an arm at them to halt.   
“Very interesting,” Thranduil purred. “Perhaps you are not completely useless after all.”

*****

Thorin and Bilbo were silent as the guards led them to the guest rooms. It was clear the dwarf did not approve of the arrangement made between Bilbo and the elf.   
Thranduil had not been able to decide exactly what he wanted Bilbo’s powers for, but Bilbo agreed without hesitation to assist him in whatever task he decided on at a later date, barring a few key limitations. Mostly concerning dwarves and their kingdoms and specifically a certain dwarf who was now glaring daggers at Bilbo as they entered their room. 

“What,” Thorin began as the door slammed shut behind them, “in Mahal’s name were you thinking? You can’t just make blind deals with my biggest enemy!”  
“I was thinking we need to be able to get ourselves out of here,” Bilbo responded quickly. “This kingdom is a fortress, one the elven king would not quickly allow us freedom from if I hadn’t played by the rules. And Thranduil? Your biggest enemy?” Bilbo gave Thorin an incredulous look. “He didn’t exactly threaten your life.”  
Thorin paced the length of the room, rubbing his hands over his face. He huffed and spun on his heel to face Bilbo. “I suppose you’re probably right.” He shrugged. “Much as I hate it.”

Bilbo smiled fondly. “I know you do. But at least we’ll be out of here soon. Thranduil did say he could have escorts ready by morning.”  
“Indeed,” Thorin grinned. “On another note, that was quite brilliant. What you did back there.”  
“Oh.” Bilbo stammered a bit, flustered and more than a little uncomfortable. He looked around the room, eager to find a change in subject. “Do you suppose we should let everyone know we’re back?”

“Yes. Yes we should. I’m sure old Balin is losing his mind with worry by now,” Thorin chuckled and they moved further into the room, following the sounds of Bofur’s boisterous singing. There were three doors on the other side of the room, and Bilbo assumed they must lead to bedrooms. He waited as Thorin opened the one in the middle.

“Thorin! Bilbo!” Bofur’s excited voice cried, “You’re just in time for the last verse of my new song!”  
The dwarves all laughed as Bofur broke into song once again, something about an elf who was mistaken for a lass because he had no beard. Bilbo shook his head. Did the dwarves not remember that he had no beard?

“I’m going to turn in,” Bilbo told Thorin in a stage whisper.  
“You alright?” Thorin asked with concern.  
“Oh yes, yes. It’s just I’ve… worn myself out a bit. Nothing to worry about. Which bedroom should I-”  
“Step out and take the one on the right!” Fili yelled as he hurried toward Thorin and Bilbo. “You two and Kili and I get to share.”  
“Will there be enough room for everyone else in the other two bedrooms?” Bilbo asked, brow furrowed in concern.  
“Oh yes. There is plenty of room.”

*****

The next morning brought with it a hearty breakfast and a company of dwarves eager to be moving on. Much as the elves had been accommodating, the façade of friendship was quite transparent, and Bilbo had to admit he would be thrilled to be set out in the wilderness again rather than stay any longer. Thranduil had been convinced by his son Legolas to spare a few odds and ends to get the dwarves to their next stop, but only the bare minimum.   
Bilbo was packing what looked like a child’s bedroll and a few portions of food when he felt the unmistakable air of a quite perturbed Thorin. He looked up as said dwarf approached, his irritation plain on his face.

“Have you seen Kili?” Thorin asked, giving no time to niceties and greetings.  
“Kili?” Bilbo thought for a moment, taking a second to see if he could sense the prince anywhere nearby. “I haven’t seen him since we arrived yesterday,” he finally admitted. 

Thorin turned with a huff and marched off to look for his youngest nephew.  
“Guess it better be me who finds him first,” Bilbo mumbled to himself. He sighed and closed his eyes, pushing out through the wooden floor beneath his feet, searching for the dark-haired prince. 

The floor was carved from tree roots, the earth beneath sour and damp with cold. Bilbo flinched as he pushed his senses out as far as he dared, and finally, he found the familiar soft and bright energy of Kili off in a distant corridor. 

Bilbo frowned. There was someone with the dwarven prince. An elf maid. She felt… warm. Bright and predatory and dangerous, but warm. Like the kiss of the sun on a hot summer day. Bilbo pondered for a few moments, reveling in the feel of what he was certain was new love blossoming between the unlikely pair. He was suddenly aware of a rough and very volatile Thorin heading straight for the two of them. He came back to himself and winced.   
Poor young lovesick fools. Thorin would tear them both to pieces.


	13. Laketown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my lovlies! Finally, I'm back again! I am so sorry to keep you waiting, I hope that you can forgive me. Here we go, Laketown at last!

Thranduil sent a few of his scouts to escort the company to the edge of the forest. The journey was quiet and uneventful, the dwarves and elves being so suspicious of each other. Bilbo would never admit it out loud, but he was secretly quite grateful to have the elves around. They diluted the acrid sick feeling of the forest and made it easier for Bilbo to think.

Bilbo sighed. His senses were getting stronger, and he assumed his powers may be as well. He didn’t want them. He wished he could throw them away and forget he ever had them. Forget he was not a true Baggins. Forget all of it. Then again, if he did, he would never have left his home. He wouldn’t have agreed to follow these wonderful mad dwarves. He wouldn’t have followed Thorin. The only reason he agreed was because he had been so alone in The Shire, it made it so easy to run off into the blue on an adventure with dwarves he’d never met before.  


No matter where his powers came from, no matter the troubles brought on by them, Bilbo realized he was grateful. Grateful to have everything he had in this moment, aside from maybe a looming debt he now owed to the King of the Woodland Realm, but certainly grateful for the family he had found in the dwarves that now surrounded him.  


*****  


The air was cold and stale and smelled horribly of fish. It nipped at Bilbo’s skin and sat unpleasantly in his nose. The dock was wet, and the moisture had turned in to a thin sheen of ice as the sun set over the water.  


Bilbo stood outside, leaning over the rail, silhouetted by the orange glow of torch light from the doorway behind him. He could hear the party in full swing within, dwarves and men all drinking their fill and daring to dream of the riches buried in the lonely mountain.  


The Master of Laketown had thrown the party in honor of the dwarves. He was a selfish and greedy man, and Bilbo could see this celebration was thrown simply to guarantee he could get in the dwarves’ good graces and reap the benefits later. It had been nearly unbearable to be near the master and his crony, Alfrid. They were horrible people and left a foul taste in Bilbo’s senses.  


Bilbo jumped as the door behind him creaked open. His eyes widened as he felt Thorin’s presence, his energy strong, but hesitant. Warm. Affectionate.  


Wanting.  


Sweet Yavanna.  


“I thought I might find you out here,” Thorin rumbled softly as he took a spot at the rail next to Bilbo. “I assume The Master is a bit much for you to stomach.” He eyed the hobbit knowingly.  


Bilbo shook his head in disgust. “I cannot stand him. It pains me to be in the same room.”  


“I don’t like him either,” Thorin turned his gaze back out to the glassy black stillness of the lake. “Unfortunately, we need his support to get to the mountain.”  


Bilbo let out a sharp exhale, his breath wisping out in a cloud that quickly dissipated on the wind. “I’ll be glad to bid this place farewell.”  


Thorin chuckled. “As will I, my dear hobbit. As will I.”  


The two sat in a companionable silence, each lost in his own thoughts.  


Thorin fidgeted slightly, looking down at his hands on the rail. “I worried for you, in Mirkwood,” he stated, his voice low and soft.  


Bilbo inhaled deeply and nodded, then cleared his throat and blew out his breath in a sharp gust. “Yes it… it was most unpleasant.” He looked down at the water and frowned. “You- you carried me, I think.” He glanced at Thorin briefly, watching the dwarf twist the ring on his finger. “I never… never thanked you for doing that. For making sure I didn’t fall behind.”  


Thorin gazed sidelong at the hobbit. “Of course I wouldn’t let you fall behind.” He looked back to his fingers, resettling his ring in its rightful place. Then he turned and faced Bilbo, giving him an open, sincere look. “I would never let anything happen to you if I could help it. You are far too important to me, Bilbo Baggins.”  


Bilbo swallowed thickly, blinking his eyes a few times and cleared his throat nervously. “That- uh… that’s… that’s good, then,” he stammered, daring to finally meet Thorin’s eyes. “You mean a great deal to me too, Thorin.”  


Thorin grinned. “I know.”  


Thorin’s warm smile was hard to ignore. He was beautiful and approachable and… Bilbo wanted nothing more than to close the distance between them, to kiss that dwarf silly and feel his warmth. He took a step closer and dared to set his hand on Thorin’s where it rested on the rail. “You should head back inside. Don’t you think you’ll be missed?”  


“I do not care if I should be missed,” Thorin said as he lifted a hand to Bilbo’s cheek. “I would very much rather be out here with you.” He leaned down slowly, giving Bilbo every opportunity to step back if he chose.  


Bilbo tilted his head up and grabbed the front of Thorin’s tunic. He pulled the dwarf down and pressed their mouths together. Thorin’s hands found Bilbo’s waist as Bilbo buried his fingers in Thorin’s hair.  


Bilbo tilted his head and gave Thorin’s bottom lip a nibble.  


Thorin’s reaction was immediate. He pulled Bilbo closer, melding their bodies together as his tongue sought Bilbo’s.  


Bilbo nearly vibrated at the warmth of the dwarf against him, the taste of his kiss, the feel of his breath on his face and the coursing waves of hot lust rolling from Thorin in every direction. How nobody else could feel it was a mystery, it was all Bilbo could focus on.  


A loud gurgling made Bilbo jump back in a dazed panic. The water beneath the deck had begun to roil, and the dock had been vibrating beneath them. Bilbo took a few deep breaths, calming himself and reeling his emotions back in. The water stilled, the deck with it, and he looked up at Thorin in horror.  


“I can’t be close to you,” Bilbo lamented. “I don’t know who I am, what I am, or how to handle any of it! I can’t control myself when I’m overwhelmed by your….”  


Thorin grinned. “My?”  


Bilbo scowled. “How can you be so calm? I could have taken the entire town into the lake!”  


“No you couldn’t,” Thorin said confidently. “Worst that could’ve happened is we got a little wet.”  


“And that water is freezing!” Bilbo declared.  


Thorin’s smile widened and he shrugged. “It would’ve been worth it.”  


Bilbo finally allowed himself a little grin. “Perhaps we try again, after we’ve taken back your kingdom? Preferably on solid ground?”  


Thorin’s grin turned feral. “I look forward to it.”  


“And after I have managed to… to find some control over,” he gestured at the again glossy still water, “this. If can ever manage such a thing.”  


Thorin brushed a curl from Bilbo’s forehead. “You will. You are brave, strong, and loyal, and you have a fierce heart. As soon as you see that for yourself, you will be able to control it. And I will wait for as long as I must for that to happen.” Thorin quickly kissed Bilbo’s forehead and went back inside.  


*****  


The stay in Laketown was far too short. The company soon found themselves heading for Erebor, and for the dragon. There was much talk of strategy and plans for various possibilities. Bofur was certain the dragon was dead, and in such a case, he had been devising plans for Smaug’s removal. Fili and Kili kept exchanging valiant tales of how they would fight the beast single handedly, each scenario more outlandish than the last.  


Bilbo knew somewhere deep within himself that the dragon still lived. He felt it more and more clearly the closer they got to the mountain. It was a looming feeling, and as they grew closer to Erebor, the more ominous it felt. Bilbo would die before he let his dwarves face a dragon. There would be no valiant tales of dragon slaying for Fili and Kili to tell their children. Bilbo would face the dragon, and Bilbo alone.  


Bilbo set his mostly full bowl of stew down on the ground. He stood up and went back to his bedroll, his appetite long gone. He knew if any of them were to survive, it would be by his hand. He would have to use his powers, and it would only work if he believed it would. Faith in himself. Bilbo huffed a laugh. Ironic he would have to find it in order to save them all.


	14. Dragons and Acorns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! Two Sundays in a row! Look at me go!  
> This chapter is a little shorter, but what I have in store next didn't really fit. Hope you enjoy it!

The mountain loomed ominously overhead, cold stone walls stretching on forever. Bilbo looked down the dark tunnel before him, mustering up the courage to go in.

“No,” Thorin said, “no, no we have to find a better plan.”  
Balin gave the nervous king a frown. “Thorin, this has been our plan from the very beginning. Why would we change it now?”

“I won’t have Bilbo facing a live dragon! He’ll die, Balin!” Thorin exclaimed.  
“Calm down, Thorin. We do not yet know if the wyrm lives. That is the whole purpose of Bilbo going in at all. He can tell us if the dragon lives, and he may be able to find the Arkenstone while he’s down there. Nobody expects him to face a live dragon.”

Bilbo averted his gaze, shifting idly from one foot to the other while Thorin all but lost his mind to the thought of Bilbo’s untimely death by dragon fire.

“I will go in,” Thorin suggested for what felt like the millionth time. “I will see if the beast lives.”

Balin shook his head again, tiring of this argument. “You are our king, Thorin! What if something should happen to you?”

“What if something should happen to Bilbo?!” Thorin roared at his old friend angrily.

Bilbo turned to face them, his face a mask of determination. “I will be the one to go, Thorin. I will go, and I will return. I signed a contract.”

“I would release you from that contract, you do not owe me this,” Thorin nearly pleaded.

Bilbo sighed, shifting his gaze to Balin. “Could you give us a minute?”

Balin nodded with a wink and turned away, urging the others to move back and give the two some space.

“Thorin, I’m not going to back down on this. I’m going,” Bilbo declared softly. 

Thorin stepped closer, reaching up to cup Bilbo’s face with his hand. His eyes burned with intensity as he stroked Bilbo’s cheek. “I cannot lose you.”

Bilbo smiled, blushing slightly. He turned his head and pressed his lips to Thorin’s palm. “You won’t.” He took Thorin’s hand in his and looked up into the dwarf’s emotion filled eyes. “I promise you, you haven’t seen the last of me. It’ll take more than a dragon to keep me from you.” With that, he let go and turned to quickly sprint down the tunnel and vanished in the dark.

“That settles that,” Balin declared, stepping toward Thorin. “Don’t fret, My King, I believe our Master Baggins is far more capable than any of us know.”

*****

Thorin had been pacing for what felt like hours. There had been no sign of Bilbo, and no sound from within the tunnel into the mountain. Night was upon them, the clouds moved like ghostly figures over the face of the moon, casting eerie shadows over the mountainside, and over the dwarves as they waited. 

Suddenly, the ground began to tremble. The dwarves steadied themselves until everything again went still. 

“What was that?” Ori gasped as he clung to Dwalin.  
“That my lad, was a dragon,” Balin answered with a severe look in his eye. His gaze met Thorin’s, and the king immediately sprang into action. He raced down the tunnel before anyone could stop him.

“Bilbo!” Thorin’s voice echoed as it traveled through the tunnel of stone. His footsteps faltered as the tunnel opened up into a vast hall. He walked out onto the stone ledge, a sea of treasure before him, and dragon fire filling the air. He spotted Bilbo, running through the gold coins and gems that littered the floor, Smaug moving swiftly behind him, his chest glowing a deep orange as the dragon prepared to breathe his deadly flames.

“Here you great slug!” Thorin roared over the din, effectively getting Smaug’s attention. The dragon froze in his tracks, his head whipping around toward Thorin’s voice. His eyes narrowed and he began closing in on the dwarf.

Bilbo made a dash for the stairs and launched up them as fast as he could before Smaug could incinerate his dwarf.

“Oakenshield,” Smaug purred, immediately losing interest in the hobbit. “I didn’t expect you to come face me yourself, coward as you are.” 

“I didn’t expect you to have gained so much weight. You’ve grown slow, you overgrown newt,” Thorin yelled.

Smaug snorted, grinning menacingly and stalked closer to the dwarf. “We’ll see how slow I am, Thorin, King of nothing.” He bolted forward, jaws open. Thorin barely managed to jump from the ledge in time. He landed in a pile of gold coins, winded but no worse for wear. He staggered to his feet as Smaug reached out and snatched him up in his claws. 

“Not so slow now, am I?!” Smaug roared, nearly bursting Thorin’s eardrums. “No dwarf will ever dare face me again, once I have rid the world of you!” He moved to bring Thorin to his mouth, then he froze for a moment. He turned his head to face Bilbo, who was now standing on the ledge where Thorin had been a few moments ago. The hobbit’s eyes were closed, his hands held out, and he seemed to be deep in a trance. 

“No!” Smaug yelled, dropping Thorin back to the ground. He rolled to his side, claws scrabbling at his belly, then he stretched up toward the ceiling, as though trying to escape from himself as branches and roots began to shoot out from all over his body. He opened his mouth in a soundless scream as the top of a tree sprouted from his mouth. The burning light of the dragon flickered and was snuffed out and Smaug was no more.

Thorin’s eyes widened. He turned and ran back to Bilbo as fast as his legs could carry him. When finally he had reached the top of the steps, he rushed to Bilbo’s side. Bilbo lay panting, eyes closed, body limp, and Thorin lifted him into his lap. 

“Bilbo? What- How did you-“  
“Acorn,” Bilbo breathed.  
“What?” Thorin asked incredulously.  
“I- I flung an acorn…. Into his mouth… when he tried to eat you….” Bilbo said between panted breaths. “Made it grow- into a tree.”  
Thorin’s face lit up in an awe-struck smile, and he kissed Bilbo soundly on the lips. “You are brilliant,” the dwarf declared, “and terrifying.”  
Bilbo frowned. “Terrifying?”  
“You slayed a dragon with an acorn,” Thorin stated plainly, as if Bilbo were being thick.  
“Of course I did. He was going to eat you!” Bilbo sounded horribly offended.  
Thorin laughed. “So he was,” he agreed.  
“I couldn’t let that happen, could I?” Bilbo finally allowed himself to grin.

“I fail to see what is so amusing here,” Balin scolded as he came to stand before the pair on the ground. 

“A hobbit killed a dragon with an acorn, and you don’t find any humor in it?” Thorin accused. 

Balin grinned. “Alright. Perhaps it is a bit amusing. But now how will we get him out of the mountain?”

“That is a matter for another day. Quickly, all of you,” Thorin addressed the rest of the company now standing behind Balin. “We must find whatever warmth we can, settle in where we can keep watch and get a bit of sleep tonight. Tomorrow, our work begins. It is time to begin preparing our kingdom for our people, my friends. I will send word to Dain tonight. We’re going to need all the help we can get.”


	15. Preparing for Battle

the light haze of dawn chased away the shadows was something he enjoyed. He lit his pipe and looked out at the barren wasteland before the mountain. The ruins of Dale were visible from where he sat, the jagged remains a reflection of the destruction within the mountain. Laketown was a blur on the water dotted with torchlight. The vast space between was empty, dead and laced with shadow. Bofur sighed. It would take quite some time to breathe life back into this land.

Suddenly, Bofur jumped up to his feet. He squinted, gaze focused off into distance, then stumbled in his rush to report back to Thorin. 

“Thorin!” Bofur half whispered, trying not to wake the entire company. “Thorin, there is a group of men headed toward us from Laketown. The master is leading them.”

Thorin frowned, pushing himself up to his feet. He threw on his coat and followed Bofur swiftly back to the wall. He set his hands on the ledge and sighed. “Seems the men of Laketown are coming to collect.”

*****

It was dawn by the time the group reached the mountain. They came to a halt before the gates where Thorin and his company stood waiting.

“Thorin, son of Thrain, you promised payment for our help, and now we have come to collect!” the master of Laketown declared. 

“You come the day after we reclaim our kingdom. We have had no time to repair nor take stock of what is left, and already, you come demanding payment,” Thorin responded. 

“You owe us. Pay up!” Alfrid barked. 

“We need time,” Thorin stood firm.

“Seems the King of the Mountain cannot be trusted!” The master of Laketown barked. He pointed an accusatory finger at the dwarf. “I knew you couldn’t be trusted! I knew you would go back on your word!”

“Now wait just a minute!” Bilbo shouted, taking a step forward. “We need time. He didn’t say he wouldn’t pay you! Thorin Oakenshield always keeps his word.”

Alfrid curled his lip at the hobbit, sneering in disgust. “You puny creature! It would be wise for you to stay out of matters that don’t concern you!”

“How dare you speak to him that way!” Thorin boomed, moving in front of Bilbo. “This matter does concern him! He will be the one to help advise me in this matter when we are ready. It would be wise for you to stay in his good graces.”

“King Thorin!” a voice called from behind the men, effectively gaining the attention of the group and interrupting what was sure to become a shouting match. “We bring word.” The men parted, allowing Legolas and Tauriel to come forth. 

“What does the elvish prince come to tell me?” Thorin asked, tilting his head.

“There is a host of orcs coming this way, led by a white orc on a white warg. Their numbers are vast. They come for war,” Legolas announced.

Thorin’s eyes widened. “How long do we have?”

“They will arrive tomorrow by sunrise,” Legolas reported. 

The dwarves and men all shifted uneasily, and Kili came forward, placing a hand on Thorin’s arm. “Uncle? What will we do?”

“We shall face these orcs, hold our kingdom, and hope Dain arrives in time,” Thorin answered.

“What about the men of Laketown?” Bilbo asked softly. 

Thorin frowned, meeting the Master’s eye. “I suppose the men of Laketown will have to relocate. Keep their women and children safe.”

“And where would you suggest we do that, hm? The forest? The wilderness?!” Alfrid yelled.

“Erebor, of course,” Thorin responded. “You do not think I would leave the defenseless at the mercy of orcs, do you?” He turned to the company. “Balin, Fili, Kili, you will go with the men to help them gather their people. They must only bring the necessities. Bofur, Bifur, please begin clearing whatever rubble you can move. We will need space for our guests. Oin, Gloin, inspect the infirmary. Clean up and salvage whatever medicines and supplies you can find. Dori, Ori, you are on supply detail. Search every hall and home you can get into. We’ll need blankets, clothing…. Whatever there is left. Dwalin and Nori come with me. We will see what armor and weapons have survived these long years.”

“And me?” Bilbo asked timidly.

Thorin tilted his chin down, looking slightly sheepish. “I assumed you would stay with me.”

Bilbo grinned. “I’m not sure how much help I’ll be. Perhaps I should help the others?”

Thorin nodded begrudgingly. “Alright then.”

“And what about the rest of us?” the master of Laketown asked. 

Thorin frowned. “I assumed you would want to see to the evacuation of your people.”

“I can rely on my men to see to that. I’m not riding all that way back,” the master declared. “I assume you have a place I could rest?”

Thorin scowled. “No. You will help Dwalin and Nori and I.”

“What right do you have to bark orders at me?!” the master demanded.

“I am king of this mountain. If you are to stay here in safety, you will make yourself useful,” with that, Thorin turned on his heel, leaving the men to do as they had been ordered.

*****

By nightfall, the mountain had been secured. The gate had been sealed, and the dwarves and men had gathered what supplies they could find. Tauriel stayed, helping wherever she could and sticking close to Kili’s side. Legolas had gone back to plead with his father to send forces to help. Alfrid and the master had disappeared not an hour into preparations, the master feigning a severe headache and Alfrid insisting he would need to assist him. Thorin saw right through their playacting, but decided against kicking up a fuss, as the incessant whining had been unbearable. The men and dwarves took turns standing watch, growing more and more nervous as morning drew nearer. 

Thorin stood on the ramparts looking out as he awaited the arrival of the orc army. It was a bittersweet feeling, winning his kingdom back. He had accomplished what he had set out to do, only to be launched into battle, one that could easily take his life. 

“I imagined I would find you here,” the sound of Bilbo’s voice had Thorin smiling softly to himself. He glanced over as the hobbit took up the space at Thorin’s left elbow. 

Bilbo stared off towards the horizon and sighed. “How many do you suppose there are?”

“Tens of thousands, if the red head is to be believed,” Thorin responded, something close to disdain in his voice.

Bilbo raised an eyebrow. “You do not approve of Tauriel,” he announced plainly.

Thorin huffed. “No, I simply cannot fathom my own kin taking up with an elf. Kili is a royal dwarf of the Durin line! How he could possibly settle with a pointy eared tree sprite is beyond me!”

Bilbo gave him an amused grin. “And taking up with a short statured Shire rat would be more vastly approved of?”

Thorin finally turned toward Bilbo. His face moved through a number of emotions; shock, anger, sadness, before settling on defeat. “Perhaps you are right.” Thorin turned back toward the horizon and leaned on his elbows. “Perhaps I am being a bit unfair. I have no patience for hypocrisy from anyone else, maybe I have not held myself to my own standard in that respect.”

Bilbo fidgeted uncomfortably. “Do you- are you saying you want to… end our… whatever this is… or are you saying you want to give Tauriel a chance?”

Thorin gave Bilbo a sidelong glance. “I could never give you up.” He rubbed his hands together pensively before lacing his fingers. “A dwarf loves very rarely, and those we love we become strongly attached to. It is rare for a dwarf to love more than once. If Kili has already given the elf his heart as I expect he has, who am I to take that love from him?” He shook his head lightly. “It would be cruel.”

Bilbo reached a tentative hand out and set it gently on Thorin’s forearm. “I’m glad you would do that for Kili.”

Thorin grinned back at the hobbit, covering Bilbo’s hand with his own. “I’ve been meaning to ask you, I know a lot has happened since we… well, since Beorn’s.”

Bilbo frowned slightly, wondering where Thorin was going with this.

“When all of this is over, when the mountain is finally won and the battle has ended, will you stay, Bilbo Baggins? Will you stay with me, if I am lucky enough to still be standing?”

Bilbo grinned. “I don’t think there was ever another choice for me.” He raised up onto his toes and pressed a kiss to Thorin’s cheek. “We should head to the gate. I believe Gandalf will arrive within the hour.”


	16. An Epic Battle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Can you believe it? Only one chapter left! Hope you enjoy the liberties I took with this chapter. I didn't like how it went down in the movies, so I did it up right myself. Enjoy!

“You have come a long way, Bilbo Baggins,” Gandalf said thoughtfully as he and the hobbit stood on the wall, watching the armies wait for the orcs. Thranduil and his army had arrived just before dawn. He had already been en route toward the mountain when Legolas came to ask for aid on the dwarves’ behalf. Legolas was sure his father’s intentions were not to aid the dwarves at first, but he was sure he would take up arms against the orcs as soon as they arrived. 

Laketown had provided what men they could. They stood now, in ill-fitting armor, lined up with the dwarves at the front gate. Gandalf and Bilbo stood on the wall, surrounded by elven archers on both sides. Alfrid and the Master of Laketown stood with them, insisting that the leadership should not risk themselves. Of course, Thorin had scoffed at that and barely suppressed his disgust at the cowardice, but one look from Bilbo had silenced him.

Battle was nearly upon them, the orcs approaching from afar, now only specks in the distance. 

“You are not the same hobbit you were when you left the Shire,” Gandalf continued.

Bilbo sighed in exasperation. “No. I’m not the same hobbit. Hardly a hobbit at all, apparently.” 

Gandalf huffed a chuckle. “You are as much a hobbit as your mother. And your more sensible Baggins traits you still acquired from your father.”  
Bilbo shook his head. “He wasn’t really my father though, was he?”  
“Yes Bilbo, he was your father. He raised you. Taught you how to fish. To garden. He loved you. Bungo Baggins was as much your father as Belladonna was your mother.” 

Bilbo frowned. He pondered for several moments, before he allowed himself a soft smile. “You’re right.” He set his jaw and nodded once. “I am my father’s son. But I am so much more than just a hobbit.”

Gandalf grinned. “Yes, you are. And you have yet to exhibit your full potential.”

*****

The orcs arrived as the sun had fully risen. The light was quickly hidden by clouds and vast numbers of great bats flying overhead as they approached. Bilbo held his breath as the first orc soldiers came closer, nearing the line of elves at the front. With the clash of swords and the ear-splitting scream of the first fallen, the battle had begun. 

Bilbo’s hands tightened on the side of the wall as he heard the dwarves prepare to charge. The fierce and overwhelming energy of battle had Bilbo nearly vibrating out of his skin. It was intense, and Bilbo could not hold still. He fidgeted relentlessly, bouncing on the balls of his feet, wringing his hands. He nearly hit Gandalf when the wizard laid a gentle hand on Bilbo’s shoulder. 

“Steady, Bilbo. Focus. Be still and close your eyes,” Gandalf urged.  
Bilbo did as he was told, with much difficulty.   
“Feel along the wall. Feel where the mountain’s roots dig into the ground. Pull your strength from there.”  
Bilbo felt. He dug in to the strong stone of the mountain roots, grounding himself, stabilizing himself until he felt like a part of the mountain.   
“Now,” Gandalf whispered, “focus.”

Bilbo kept his eyes closed, feeling along the throng of soldiers and picking out the orcs. An easy task, as the orcs felt vastly different; thick, acrid and tar-like, like the rotting decay of death. He focused and aimed his energy at the orcs within his range. He pushed at the rocks beneath their feet, causing the ground to shift beneath them. Many lost their footing, leaving them as easier targets for the elves and dwarves and men. It wasn’t much, but it was all Bilbo could do from this vantage point from above. 

Bilbo’s eyes flew open as he heard his dwarves battle cries as they charged through the ranks. Bilbo looked down to where Thorin led the company through the throng, pushing back the first line of orcs. Bilbo’s heart hammered in his chest as he watched Thorin; sword flying, footing sure and practiced as blood sprayed the ground at his feet. It was mesmerizing, watching the king fight. 

The company made their way through the orcs, slaughtering all in their path. But soon, they were overrun. The orcs were quickly surrounding them, a giant troll headed straight for Thorin and his nephews. Bilbo flew down the stairs, his feet barely touching the stone. He rounded the corning and ran down the bridge and into the throng. He would never make it in time. Thorin was being overpowered, the company were going to fall. Rage and terror filled him with the sinking feeling of dread. He dropped to his knees and slammed his clenched fists to the ground. 

The ground split, a chasm widening across the battlefield. Orcs and trolls fell into the ground, the dwarves and elves and men scrambling to keep from falling in themselves. It worked, the orcs overrunning the company had fallen, but Thorin, Dwalin, Gloin and Fili were on the wrong side of the divide and being quickly pushed toward their death. 

Bilbo dug his fingers into the ground where he stood. He pulled in more energy and pushed it outward, forcing the rock beneath him to jut out and extend toward the other side. It created a bridge directly behind his king and his dwarves. Without another thought, Bilbo ran across the bridge, a host of elves and dwarves and men behind him. He ran to Thorin’s side and immediately set to work, sending vines from the ground up to wrap around the legs of the surrounding orcs and wargs and strangle them. 

A great horn blasted in the distance as Dain and his men appeared at the top of a hill. It took but a moment for Dain to prepare his men to attack. They charged, war pigs rumbling the earth with their great weight and speed. They met the orc army with a clash, and quickly overcame many of their number. 

“Thorin!” Dwalin roared above the din. He pointed up, where Azog stood atop Ravenhill. “Azog! We need to get up Ravenhill and bleed the bastard!”

Thorin looked around, spotting Dain driving a cart straight toward him, led by six giant rams. “Cousin!” Dain called, laughing maniacally. “You sure have a way of finding trouble wherever you go!”

“Dain!” Thorin laughed, slapping his red bearded cousin on the back as he leapt down from the cart. 

“Who is this?” Dain asked gesturing toward Bilbo, who was helping Fili and Kili with the nearest orcs.

Thorin grinned proudly. “I’ll explain later. For now, I need your rams.” 

Thorin, Fili, Kili, and Dwalin unhooked and mounted their rams. Bilbo moved to hop up behind Thorin, but the dwarf’s hand stopped him. 

“I will not have you risk yourself further,” Thorin warned.   
“And I will not be left behind again,” Bilbo countered. “I’m going with you. On this I will not yield.”  
“Bilbo, I can’t lose you!”  
“Oh for Mahal’s sake!” Dwalin roared. “Bilbo, get yer ass on that goat! No, Thorin, shut up! We need him, he’s coming, now let’s get a move on! This is war! We don’t have time for this nonsense!” 

Surprisingly, Thorin listened. He took Bilbo’s hand and pulled him up behind him. Once Bilbo had wrapped his arms tightly around Thorin, they were off.

The dwarves urged their mounts to move as fast as they could, swinging swords and axes as they sliced their way through orc army. They worked their way toward the frozen river, hoping for some semblance of cover. For several minutes, it worked. No orc nor cave troll seemed to notice them. But the wargs did. A pack of them leapt out onto the ice behind the dwarves. They rapidly gained ground, bearing no riders to slow them. 

“Faster!” Thorin yelled as the nearest warg snapped at his ram’s hooves. 

Suddenly, there was the sound of ice splintering and it cracked open, swallowing up the wargs into the icy depths of the river.

“Well done, Bilbo!” Dwalin called out. With a round of chuckles, the group made their way up to Raven Hill. 

The orcs were ready for them. 

Thorin and Dwalin leapt from their mounts, Fili and Kili following suit, and they made quick work of the first orcs. 

“Where’s Azog?” Thorin yelled over the din of clanging swords.   
“Ya can look for him when we’re done playin here!” Dwalin roared. 

Once the danger had been dispatched, the group carefully made their way out onto the ice of the frozen falls. It was too quiet, and thick fog clung to the ground, obscuring their view. Azog was nowhere to be seen. 

“Fili, Kili, go scout the tower,” Thorin commanded softly.  
“No!” Bilbo sounded winded, the use of so much energy clearly having drained him. “Don’t send them in there, there will be no way out.”  
Thorin frowned curiously. “What do you know?”  
“I can feel him, Thorin. He is lying in wait in that tower.”  
“What now?” Dwalin asked, looking to Bilbo and Thorin both.  
Bilbo shook his head as he glanced around warily.  
“Now we wait. The scum will come out sooner or later,” Thorin answered. “Or I will lure him out myself.”

Thorin walked out onto the ice, the fog swirling around his feet. “Azog!” He planted his feet, looking up at the watch tower with determination in his eyes. “Come face me, coward! We end this today.”

All was still for a moment, everyone barely daring to breathe. Then, a shadow appeared in the fog, growing larger as it came closer. Another step, and Azog came into view. Thorin raised his sword, challenge in his eyes as Azog stepped out to face him on the ice. Neither said a word, and they moved in tandem, blades meeting between them with a ringing clash. Azog sneered menacingly, turning to walk away as a couple of his orcs made their way to Thorin. The king ended them easily, Bilbo and the others coming in to fight of a few stragglers that came from the sides. 

Thorin followed Azog into the fog, the others coming to stand behind him as he moved further out onto the ice. Azog pulled a giant flail from behind him, and Bilbo’s eyes widened in terror. 

“Dwalin, he doesn’t really mean to fight this battle alone?” Bilbo asked.

“Yes. Yes he does. Thorin alone will put an end to Azog’s terror.”

Bilbo frowned, fidgeting nervously and watched as Azog threw the flail at Thorin. Luckily, Thorin was light on his feet. He managed to dodge the spiky ball of death at every turn, but he didn’t expect Azog to signal Bolg into attacking. 

The metal plated orc seemed to materialize from out of the fog. He moved swiftly, coming up behind Thorin and raised his sword to attack. 

“No!” Bilbo yelled throwing a hand out and effectively crushing the ice from beneath Bolg’s feet. The orc fell into the icy water with a screech and Thorin spun around at the sound. Azog took the advantage and swung, hitting Thorin with his flail right in the side. Thorin fell hard on the ice with a cry of agony. 

Fili and Kili moved as one toward the two, but Dwalin held them at bay.  
“Uncle!”  
“Thorin!”  
“Stay back!” Thorin ordered, shooting a warning look at his nephews before rolling onto his back to face his opponent. He rolled to the side to avoid Azog’s next attack and quickly he found his feet and slashed at the orc with his sword. Azog roared and grabbed at the oozing slice down his thigh, then turned back to Thorin, face contorted with rage. He dropped his flail and attacked with his bladed arm, but Thorin blocked. Their blades crashed again and again, until Azog managed to swing his fist and land a blow to Thorin’s wounded side. 

Thorin yelled in pain, struggling to hold onto his sword as his wound gushed down his side. 

Bilbo pushed up his sleeves and closed his eyes.  
“No!” Thorin yelled. “Azog is mine!”  
Bilbo clenched his jaw and shook his head. "Forgive me," he whispered. He closed his eyes again and drew in everything he could pull from around him. His eyes flew open, a terrifying glint in them as he focused on Azog. 

There was a sound of splintering ice, and a scream from Azog’s lips. A blade of ice protruded from the top of his foot, the frozen water beneath him suddenly splintering into deadly shards and piercing his feet, growing ever upwards into and around his legs. 

Thorin stepped back, his jaw dropping in awe as the shards grew bigger and bigger, and soon Azog was nothing but a pyramid of ice. 

Thorin grit his teeth angrily and spun to face his hobbit. “Bilbo! I told you-” Thorin’s words were cut off as he watched Bilbo collapse on the frigid ground.


	17. The Power of Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My dear JuniAsat, I sincerely hope you have enjoyed this piece. It has been a pleasure to write, and I thank you for the prompt and inspiration!   
> Here it is, the exciting conclusion!

The first thing Bilbo noticed was pain. Not a sharp, stabbing pain, or pain that was overwhelming to endure; just a vague, dull ache over every inch of him. The next thing he noticed was warmth. Warmth, and a hot breeze over the back of his neck. A steady heartbeat at his back. A hand around his middle. The smell of leather and fire and stone. The comforting, intoxicating energy of Thorin Oakenshield enveloping his senses. 

“You’re awake,” a gravely voice mumbled low in his ear.  
“And wrapped up in you, once again,” Bilbo said with humor.   
“Mm,” was the eloquent response. There was a moments pause before Thorin shifted slightly and cleared his throat. “How do you feel?”  
“Tired. A bit sore. But I’m alright. What about you? Are you alright?” Bilbo rolled over and felt along the line of Thorin’s body in a near panic even as he spoke.  
“Ow!” Thorin groaned as Bilbo’s hand reached his side.  
“I- I’m sorry, I only-“  
“Shhh,” Thorin grabbed Bilbo’s arms and pulled him in against his chest. He gently combed his fingers through Bilbo’s hair and looked down at him fondly. “Rest now, Bilbo. There will be time for talk after you’ve recovered your strength.”

*****

Morning light washed over Bilbo’s face. He grimaced and turned over, burying his nose in Thorin’s chest. 

“Wake up, Bilbo,” Gandalf’s amused voice caused the hobbit to grumble unhappily.   
“No,” Bilbo responded.  
Gandalf chuckled. “Don’t you want to know how it all ended?”

Bilbo groaned. He couldn’t resist the sudden need to hear everything, know if everyone was alright. He rolled to face the wizard and slowly opened his eyes.  
“Is- are the company alive?” Bilbo asked urgently.  
“The company are all fine.”  
“Hmmph,” Thorin grumbled from beside Bilbo.  
“Well, fine except Thorin here,” Gandalf amended.  
“Will his wounds…”  
Thorin laid a hand on Bilbo’s side. “They’re healing just fine.”  
Gandalf grinned at the dwarf’s reassuring tone.  
Bilbo frowned again. “Tauriel?”  
“Showed up shortly after you fainted,” Gandalf answered. “She helped Kili and the others get you down to a healer. Now she’s helping heal the wounded. She’s been at it for days, scarcely resting.”  
Bilbo frowned. “Days?” He shook his head lightly. “How long have I been sleeping?”  
“Three days,” Gandalf answered.   
Bilbo’s eyes widened. “Sweet Yavanna.”

Gandalf gave Bilbo a moment to absorb the information, then the hobbit returned his gaze.   
“What happened with Alfrid and the master?”

Gandalf barely suppressed a smirk. “They were caught making off with a good amount of Erebor’s treasure.”

Bilbo looked affronted. 

“Gloin and Bifur caught them, shortly after the battle ended, trying to run off with their spoils in the dark of night,” Gandalf continued. “Their fate lies with the king. They have been detained and await Thorin’s judgment.”

“Let them rot,” Thorin declared lazily, his eyes still closed and forehead wrinkled in distaste. 

“Indeed,” Gandalf responded. 

“You’re awake!” Kili’s excited voice called from the tent entrance. 

Bilbo and Thorin looked up at the young dwarf’s elated face, his smile infectious as he ran across the tent to their cot. Thorin carefully sat up and Kili threw his arms around his uncle’s neck. 

“I was worried for you, uncle,” Kili’s voice was muffled in Thorin’s hair.   
“I know. I’m alright now,” Thorin rubbed his youngest nephew’s back comfortingly. 

Kili released his grip on Thorin and turned to hug Bilbo. “Thank you for saving him, Bilbo,” Kili said. 

“Speaking of which,” Thorin began, “we need to talk about that, Bilbo.”

Kili got up and began slowly moving toward the exit.   
“Well,” Gandalf clapped his hands to his knees and pushed himself to his feet. “We best take our leave.” He moved to walk out with Kili, then turned back to Bilbo and Thorin. “Congratulations, by the way Thorin. You’ve taken back your home.”

Thorin nodded as Gandalf and Kili left. The tent was silent, the tension making Bilbo shift nervously. 

“I do not blame you for it,” Thorin broke the silence, and Bilbo’s hands tightened on the blanket when he spoke. “I know why you intervened. The only thing hurt by it is my pride.” 

“I’m sorry,” Bilbo said softly. “I know what that battle meant to you. What defeating him meant to you.”

Thorin shook his head. “Vengeance could have cost me my life. Fili’s. Kili’s.” Thorin sighed. “Who knows what other lives may have been lost for my pride.”  
He turned his gaze to Bilbo. “I am glad you kept my line, my people from suffering further loss.”

“Of course I did,” Bilbo smiled warmly. “I couldn’t let anything happen to you, no matter your possible anger for it. I would suffer your wrath just to be sure you are there to inflict it upon me. I’d rather have you angry than dead.”

Thorin nodded thoughtfully, then his demeanor changed and the tense line of his shoulders dropped just a little. “You know, I do believe we are on solid ground.” He gave Bilbo a wry grin.   
Bilbo frowned for a moment. “Oh. Oh!” He remembered that night in Laketown, how close they’d gotten to getting covered in frigid water, and his suggestion to try again when they weren’t standing over a lake. “Thorin, I don’t know…..”

“Oh, but I do,” Thorin rumbled as he cupped Bilbo’s face in his hands. He slowly brought them closer together, giving Bilbo the opportunity to object. Bilbo’s breath had accelerated, his hands buried into Thorin’s tunic as their lips brushed gently. 

Their mouths connected, and Bilbo was too swept up to worry about the consequences. He moaned into Thorin’s mouth, his heart fluttering in his chest and breathing ragged and uncontrolled. He pressed his body into Thorin, then he gasped, pulling his hands away. “Wait Thorin! You’re injured!”  
“It’s alright,” Thorin insisted. “We just have to be careful.”  
“Thorin, are you sure we should be doing this? Shouldn’t we wait until you’re better healed?” Bilbo asked nervously.

“No, no I don’t care,” Thorin said, cupping Bilbo’s face again. “I won’t wait any longer for you.” He kissed Bilbo again, and the hobbit couldn’t even consider objecting. He pulled Thorin closer, mindful of his side, and laid back as Thorin moved to hover over him. The dwarf braced his hands on either side of Bilbo and settled on his knees between Bilbo’s thighs. 

“Careful, Thorin,” Bilbo urged. “Doesn’t that aggravate your wounds?”

Thorin frowned and sat up. Come to think of it, his injury hadn’t seemed to hurt him much since Bilbo began kissing him senseless. He pulled his tunic over his head and flung it to the ground. He began unwrapping his bandages, and Bilbo’s eyes widened as he dropped the blood soaked wrappings to the floor.

The wound was almost completely healed. All Bilbo could see were a few angry red marks where the spikes had punctured. 

“Did I….” Bilbo gasped in wonder.   
“Yes, my hobbit, you did.” With that, Thorin leaned down and swept Bilbo up in another kiss.  
“I suppose that’s one last thing to worry about,” Bilbo grinned as he took a moment to catch his breath.  
“Tell me to stop,” Thorin whispered, his breath soft and warm on Bilbo’s lips.   
Bilbo shook his head. “Don’t stop.” 

Thorin lowered himself down, letting every inch of him press into Bilbo deliciously. Bilbo moaned and squirmed beneath him, hips shifting and legs flying up to wrap around Thorin’s waist. Thorin rocked against his hobbit, swallowing the lewd moans elicited from Bilbo’s mouth. 

Bilbo broke their kiss, burying his hands in Thorin’s hair as he panted and gasped for breath. His hips canted up to meet Thorin’s, moans and whimpers leaving his lips with every exhale. Suddenly, his back arched and he went rigid, hitting his peak with a satisfied yell. 

Thorin was close behind. After a few more thrusts, his jaw dropped and his eyes pinched shut as his movements lost rhythm. He came with a chest rumbling groan, forehead dropping to the pillow next to Bilbo’s head. He stayed like that for a few moments, letting his breathing settle, before pushing himself up to meet Bilbo’s eyes. 

“That is not at all how I pictured our first time,” Thorin said regretfully.   
Bilbo smiled. “You can make it up to me later. Besides, I’m not complaining.” He kissed Thorin soundly, and the dwarf rolled up to find some clean pants. He stood from the bed, then his gaze shot down to the ground under his feet. 

“Bilbo?” Thorin’s gaze swept over the ground as he heard shouts from outside the tent. 

Bilbo jumped up, noticing the grasses and flowers now littering the ground and went with Thorin to look outside. 

The camp was full of commotion, the dwarves and elves and men all shouting and whooping with laughter. All around were flowers and grasses and trees, far out across the desolation. 

“You’ve brought life to these lands, Bilbo,” Thorin grinned, putting an arm around his hobbit. “I can’t wait to have you as my consort.”

Bilbo beamed. There was yet much to do; restoring and cleaning and somehow figuring out how to move a giant dragon oak tree from the mountain. But Bilbo wasn’t worried. He had finally found his place, his potential. And finally, he was home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone who has followed along, and for any who have left Kudos and Comments as they are my lifeforce. I appreciate all of you! 
> 
> -Mama


End file.
